Impetus
by legendarytobes
Summary: AU - rewrite on the pilot based on the premise that Chloe is the Kryptonian and Clark's the normal one.
1. Chapter 1

**1**

"You're late."

"Am not." Clark said, setting his backpack on top of the editor's desk in the Torch and slipping into his usual seat. Well usual since last June when Chloe had taken over the school newspaper. She'd suckered him and Pete into joining her for her second year on staff (she was the only ever eighth grader allowed to work on the publication), and part of that flimflam had included helping her renovate the office and set it up her way.

He'd spent a whole week just helping her paint the walls. Principal Kwan hadn't been thrilled that she'd insisted on a light green-blue instead of traditional Crows coloring. Chloe had countered his objections by insisting that much red and gold made her dizzy.

Idly, Clark looked down at his red t-shirt and shrugged. Apparently love of primary colors was an acquired taste. He glanced across the room to where Chloe was sifting through the file cabinet. Her blouse was a riot of colors from lime to violet to some orange color that reminded him vaguely of parking cones. Yeah, he'd never get Metropolis fashion sense either.

Still, over all, the green walls were a nice look.

"Clark?"

"Hmm?"

"You know working on the staff actually implies you do something."

"I'd do something if you'd assign it to me, oh lady editor."

She turned back to him and shook her head. "A real reporter finds their own news."

"It's the first week of school and nothing's happened at all except homework resumed. There's a headline."

"Well, there are activities starting up. Take a profile of the Chess Club or something."

"Boring." He frowned. "Actually, I was thinking about taking over the yearly football review article."

"A little late, Kent. I gave that out to Pete this morning."

He glared back at her. "Chlo, that's not fair."  
>"Look," she said, striding across the room and pulling out a manila folder from beside her desk, "Pete's on the team. His oldest brother was last year's starting cornerback. He knows the guys and the coach and he's going to get the better quotes."<p>

Clark snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. "And this is my point. Pete's going to get all the football he can stand. The least I'm asking for is to get in an interview. It's not like my parents will let me near a game any other way."

"Yeah, you're really missing out on everything there. What with the two-a-day practices in the high heat of summer, the smelly pads, and the ragingly homoerotic undertones."

"You're biased."

She shrugged. "Probably, but I never found the allure of watching gorillas bash into each other."

"I'm telling Pete you said that."

"Well, he gets upgraded to chimpanzee since I know he can read."

Clark sighed and picked up tomorrow's cafeteria menu, readying himself to type it up. "I just hate that I can't play. It sucks."

Chloe sat down in the rolling chair across from his desk and sighed. "It's not that big a deal."

"You would say that. You're a girl."

"I'm saying that because, yeah, there's that football glory for maybe three or four years tops, and then you end up running the local hardware store and sitting in the Wild Coyote talking about the glory days."

"My dad played."

"Okay, so that worst case scenario is a little stereo type-y, but you're better than football and you know it. I mean, you're a really talented writer. Not as good as me of course-"

"Way to be modest, Chlo."

"Well a fact's a fact, but you _are _good and I could see you working at the Journal or maybe the Planet someday. I'll totally hire you once I become the youngest editor-in-chief, I promise."

"Thanks." He sighed. "It's just that no one cares about the paper."

"Ahem."

"Okay we care about the paper, but other people don't."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "By other people you mean the Pink Peep?"

"That's mean."

"It's true."

Clark sighed but didn't press it. He never understood what Chloe had against Lana. Okay, so Chloe probably didn't care about how beautiful Lana was since he was pretty sure Chloe didn't lean that way. Scratch that. He'd been forced to sit through her Christian Bale festivals enough times to know that she was straight. Still, Lana was a nice girl and she always smiled at him in the hall when she did notice him, which, granted, she rarely did. She'd always been perfectly friendly to Chloe in the classes they'd shared last year, but Chloe still avoided the other girl like the plague and kept a maximum distance away from her at all times.

He mostly put the attitude down to Chloe being jealous of Lana, not that she'd ever mentioned secret desires to be on the Homecoming Court or be a cheerleader, but, deep down, Clark suspected she wanted something a little more stereotypically high school perfect and a little less off the beaten path.

"Jeez, you don't have to be so harsh about it."

"I'm not. I just don't see the point in your football obsession. Your parents are never going to let you play, and even if they did and you were a phenom and Lana did fall for you-that's a lot of "ifs" by the way-she wouldn't be in love with you anymore than she loves Whitney. She'd just be all about being the Big Man on Campus's arm candy."

"That's double harsh."

She rolled her eyes. "It's true. Football players and cheerleaders provide mutual arm candy for each other. You're better off."

Clark had a flash of what it would be like to wear one of those leather jackets and to have Lana on his arm. Yeah right. He was _so _much better off just hanging around the Torch or being forced to interview the math teacher and the lunch lady. No wonder he'd never had a girlfriend. "So Pete's got football, then?"

She nodded. "Uh-huh."

"What do you have for me then? Because I am all out of Tuna Surprise and Lasagna specials."

She grinned. "Well I might have heard some rumors of mutated frogs down by Loeb Bridge. They're supposed to be the size of poodles."

"Miniature or full-sized?"

"Depends on who you ask. Come on," She urged, her eyes glittering up at him, "Aren't you ready for extracurricular Wall of Weird investigating?"

Clark sighed and looked up at the huge collection of newspaper clippings Chloe had been collecting and posting up on the Torch's far wall since before the paint had even dried. Chloe Sullivan had a passion for the bizarre that dwarfed Robert Ripley's. He remembered the second day of school in eighth grade. The first day, he'd been assigned to show her the classes and around Smallville Junior High, and then she'd invited herself over to the farm in order to "see how the Amish lived." The next day, however, she'd returned the not-quite-favor by inviting him over to see her house.

He hadn't even crossed the threshold into her bedroom before he'd seen her personal collection of clippings. Some were yellowed cut-outs from The Inquisitor, but he found a lot of articles from the more mainstream press too. Those weren't nearly as colorful but the stories reported, no matter how dryly, still didn't quite add up. All her bookshelves were crammed with books about the paranormal, urban myths and legends, and, surprisingly, a variety of record books-Guinness, Ripley's, The World Almanac.

She'd introduced him then to her Mulder-like obsession with the truth and with her pet theory that something was definitely wrong with Smallville. She claimed it had something to do with the meteor shower. He figured it actually had to do with the pollution LuthorCorp plant (after all his dad complained about it all the time), but since her dad ran the plant, it would have been a cruel thing to point out.

Besides, after running across more than one glowing green flower or chipmunk, he'd begun to think maybe Chloe was onto something with her meteor rock theory.

Eyeing the school version of the WoW, Clark could make out mostly local articles from the Ledger and a few mentions of Lowell County weirdness in the Daily Planet. Most of them involved multi-legged cows or mysterious disappearances. One of the newer clippings described a bank robbery in which the perpetrator allegedly melted himself and the money with him in order to escape down a storm drain.

Even after some of the things he'd seen over his last year as Chloe's partner (not minion, no matter what she said), he found that last one hard to believe.

He sighed again and stood up, waiting for her to follow suit. "Sure, let's go. It's a long walk and I promised Dad I'd be home in time to help with mending the corral fence."

"Yeah," she chirped, "Remind me never to be a farmgirl. I don't do manual labor."

After an hour of wading through the mud and muck under the bridge, Clark had turned up nothing. Exactly right, _Clark _had turned up nothing. While you could lead a Chloe to water and despite her penchant for wearing flood pants, you couldn't make her get in it. Oh well, he'd grown up on a farm. It was more unusual for him to be spotless than to be muddy from the knees down anyway.

Now they were standing on the railing by the bridge, looking down at the murky water below. Idly, Clark picked up a stone and skipped it across the water's surface. He grinned and puffed up his chest at Chloe. "See that? I got five ripples."

She shrugged, picked up a stone, and, closing her eyes, chucked it across the water's surface. It skipped ten times. Opening her eyes, she looked back up at him and smirked. "You were saying?"

"Show off." He mumbled, glancing down at his watch. "I bet practice is going well."

"Look, Clark, the Lana thing apparently was cute the first seven years or so and I am so glad I got Pete's cliff notes version of all that pining, but I think you're going to have to get over it."

"It could happen."

"Uh-huh and tomorrow I'll go flying without the plane." She sighed and put a hand on his forearm. "This isn't some stupid John Hughes movie where she'll magically realize you exist."

He flinched but didn't move her hand away. Chloe had a point, but after twelve years of crushing on his next door neighbor, he really didn't think he could just get over her. "Alright, maybe you have a point-a very small one-but who else is out there if not her."

"You do know how stupid that sounds. I mean, she's like the Cindy Crawford of Smallville. There's a whole freaking high school of other girls out there. Just because they don't have alliterative initials and flowing raven tresses," She added, mock-gagging, "doesn't mean that they aren't worth your time too."

He turned to her and was startled to find her sniffling a little. "Chlo, look-" And then everything happened at once.  
>Suddenly he heard the screech of tires and glanced over his shoulder to see a Porsche barreling right toward them. He had just enough time to realize that it was going to hit him and that he was going to be really most sincerely dead, when Chloe pushed him out of the way.<p>

Way out of the way.

He must have landed twelve feet to the left of where he'd been standing. He had just enough time to roll over and watch, terrified, as the car slammed into Chloe and sent her along with itself plunging over into the river.

"Oh God!" Clark yelled, jumping to his feet, wincing a little when he realized he'd twisted his ankle in the fall. Coming to the edge of the bridge, he looked down. Bubbles were erupting over the water's surface as the car began to sink. Ignoring the pain in his ankle, Clark sprinted down the hillside and started wading into the water.

"Chloe! God, Chloe can you hear me?"

He started swimming across the water, gulping in deep breaths as his lungs closed up a little. Stupid asthma. It's not like he was trying to be an Olympic swimmer here. He just needed a few minutes to get to Chloe and to whoever was in the car. He couldn't just leave them. He paddled ineffectually through the water and finally reached the sinking mess. Pushing his head below the surface, he looked around. The water was too murky and the crashing car had kicked up too much soil. He couldn't see anything around him but opaque, muddy water.

Splashing back up and forcing air into his lungs, he called out again. "Damn it, Chloe! Where are you?" He had to yell at her, had to be mad. He just couldn't allow himself to even think that she'd been killed, no matter how logical that conclusion was.

There was a huge splash and then Chloe finally broke through the surface, dragging a bald-headed man behind her.

"Chloe!" he screamed, dog-paddling over to her.

"Not now," She gritted out, still dragging the stranger behind her. "Please help me. He's, um, he's heavy."

Wrapping one arm around the man's shoulders, he started swimming in sync with her, dragging him to the shore. They reached the bank and he hopped out first. Chloe followed after and together they managed to slide the man onto the bank.

Clark knelt down over his inert form and leaned low over his lips. "He's not breathing."

"You know CPR, don't you?"  
>His eyes narrowed. "We all took the class last May. Why am I elected?"<p>

"More lung capacity."

"Asthmatic."

She frowned and looked down at her clenched fists. She'd been as collected as possible while pulling the man to shore, but she was shaking now and staring intently at her hands. "Please Clark, don't make me beg and don't let him die."

He nodded and started in with the chest compressions, praying that he'd actually learned the correct method and that he didn't accidentally crack a rib in the process. Leaning over, he gave a few large puffs into the man's lungs and then sat up again, pressing furiously against his chest. After interminable moments, the man coughed and sat up, a dazed look on his face.

"What the Hell?"

"You drove off a bridge, you moron." Chloe shouted. "Did you even think about not doing 60 in a quiet little cow town?"

"Chloe!" Clark hissed. "He almost died." He turned back to look at the stranger. "Are you okay?"

"Bruised," he said rubbing the sides of his arms. His eyes narrowed at Chloe. "I could have sworn I hit you."

Clark looked back to Chloe. He hadn't said anything out loud yet but that was exactly what he'd seen too. A Porsche had hit her at sixty miles an hour and smashed through a freaking guard rail and there wasn't a scratch on her. Chloe stilled for a second and Clark realized he'd never seen her so pale. "You missed."

The man frowned for just an instant and then gave her a smile. "My mistake then. I guess in a situation like that we just imagine the worst." He reached out to her hand and shook it. "Thank you." He then leaned over and shook Clark's hand as well. "Name's Lex Luthor."

"I know who you are." Chloe said, her tone still stiff. "You're my dad's boss now."

Lex frowned and pulled himself to his feet. "Your Gabe Sullivan's daughter, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Well," he said, shooting Chloe a glance that reminded Clark a lot of how Mr. Mann, his seventh grade biology teacher, had eyed the frogs during dissection week. "Isn't that interesting?"

It only took thirty or forty minutes for the paramedics and the rescue crews to arrive. This being Smallville, some helpful soul had seen the damage and stopped immediately to call in everything to Sheriff Ethan. Clark was sitting on one of the large rocks by the river, a warm red blanket wrapped around him like a cape. Chloe was sitting off to his right, oddly quiet for her.

Of course, he didn't much feel like talking either. It had been the most terrifying day of his life, and he hadn't even been the one to be hit.

Thinking over the accident, he turned and looked down at Chloe. Her elbows were on her knees and she was staring down at the dirt in front of her. "Chlo?"

He had to call her name a few more times before she looked up. When she did, her gaze was distracted. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

She snorted. "I'm not the one with the twisted ankle."

"Better a twisted ankle than being pavement pizza."

She chuckled a little at that. "Tell me about it."

"Chlo," he added, frowning, "I saw the accident."

"Really? How was your view from the pavement, Clark?" She snapped.

"Pretty good actually," he said, letting his voice drop low so that the rescue workers and Lex couldn't overhear them. "He hit you. I know he did."

"You don't know anything because it didn't happen." She replied, but her words came out too fast and her eyes were open too wide. He'd seen Chloe fib to her dad a bit over the last year and he knew all her tells.

Chloe Sullivan was lying through her teeth.

"Yeah, it did. I know what I saw."

Chloe gulped and ran a hand through her soaked hair. "Clark, you can't tell anybody that you saw that, not ever."

He rocked back a little somehow shocked even more than when he'd seen it. He guessed that part of him had still been insisting that his mind was playing tricks on him until she confirmed it. "I _did _see it?"

Chloe relaxed just a millimeter so she could roll her eyes. "Yes, you did. How many times do I have to confirm it for you?"

"Maybe forever. That was unbelievable. I thought you were dead."

"Me too."

He frowned and reached out a long arm, wrapping it around her shoulders. She was shaking beneath him but he had a feeling it had nothing to do with being soaked. Even in the cool of the setting sun and the early fall day, Chloe wasn't cold.

She was never cold come to think of it.

He sat there for a moment, squeezing her shoulder and letting his fingers stroke the back of her hair, before he spoke. "This is where the Wall of Weird comes from, isn't it? This isn't the first weird thing that's happened to you. I mean, the way you always made it first to school when you never made the bus or how ridiculously fast you were able to move all the new furniture and whatnot into the Torch office even though no one helped you."

"I said that Pete helped."

"To me and when Pete asked the same question, you told him that I'd done it."

"Maybe not my best lie ever," She conceded, sighing. "But yeah, I did start the Wall of Weird back when I was young in Metropolis because I figured if my life was too freaky to believe then someone else's had to be too. There has to be a reason for all of this." She added, her words belying her reporter mindset and need for logic, but her tone pleading.

"I'm sure there is." He said, hoping that didn't sound as stupid to her as it did to him because, seriously, he couldn't think of any reason why the accident hadn't smooshed her flat.

Chloe didn't answer but just looked up as the crane from the highway department lifted what remained of Lex's Porsche into the air. Clark looked up too and gaped at the large hole ripped through the car's roof. The impact hadn't done that and it certainly hadn't left the fist-sized hole in the windshield.

She'd done that.

"Chlo," he added, trying and failing to squelch the awe welling up in his voice. "Did you just rip the roof off of the car?"

"Maybe."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Maybe?"

"Well it seemed like a faster option than trying to yank the door off." She griped.

He whistled. "Jeez, you're strong and how come I'm the one who always has to carry your books?"

"Because chivalry isn't dead. That's the one advantage of living in Podunk."

He looked back at the mangled remains of the roof and gulped. "You're _really _strong."

"I thought we established that."

"I…we did. Oh jeez."

Chloe pulled herself gently out of his embrace and looked back down at the muddy bank. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"

"Intimidated a little maybe. Holy crap. Maybe you should play for the Crows instead of me."

"Superstrong, not brain damaged." She quipped, hazarding a glance up at him. "So we're okay?"

"Yeah." He snorted, "After the melting guy and the squirrel-eating roses in the Hubbards' garden, I should have been expecting anything."

"More things in heaven and earth and all that then." She paraphrased and then focused her wide green eyes on him. "I'm serious, though, you can't tell anyone about any of this."

"Not even Pete?"

"Nobody. My dad is going to freak when he hears that you know, and Lex is already suspicious." She put her head back in her hands. "Twelve years of laying low with almost complete success and I manage to out myself in the middle of freaking Mayberry."

_Almost complete success? _Clark wanted to prod her about that, but he figured he'd have to wait for a more opportune time. He reached over and took her hands in his. They were so small compared to his that he had a hard time believing that they could crush metal so easily. "I promise, Chlo, I won't say anything to anybody."

She gave him a forced smile. "Thanks, I appreciate it." She frowned. "Can you do me one more favor?"

"What?"

"Take the credit. If anyone asks, you're the one who dove in after him and dragged him to shore. I mean, Hell, you're already the guy who gave him CPR. You're the hero here."

"You could have done the CPR. Probably better than me considering I was wheezing the entire time."

She shook her head. "Sometimes if I get really emotional or excited, I can't control my strength. I was so worked up that I was afraid that I'd shatter his sternum."

"Ouch."

"Yeah not so good for saving people."

"I guess not." He said, shrugging. "But don't you want any credit?"

"I want to stay off the radar. Being curious about the bizarre and unusual is one thing, _being _the bizarre and unusual is something else. If anyone finds out…"

He nodded. He'd read enough X-men comics to get the gist of where the rest of that statement was headed. "They're not. Lex doesn't know anything and no one would believe him anyway because it's a crazy story. Besides, even people in Smallville know his reputation. There isn't a legal or illegal drug that he hasn't been on."

"Yeah," she added hesitantly, looking back to where Lex stood.

Clark followed her gaze and found Lex staring back at only at her, that same intense curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

Maybe they weren't out of the woods yet after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

Clark groaned and threw the latest edition of The Torch down on Chloe's desk. "When did you even have time to do this?"

"Gee, Clark, and it's great to see you too." She looked down at the front page and perused her own headline. Then, she quirked her head up at him. "Whatever happened to that time-tested standard of 'thank you?'"

"Thank you?" He yelled, gesturing back at the paper. "What the Hell?"

She rolled her eyes. "What? You don't like being the biggest thing to hit Smallville High since the cafeteria rat scare of last year?"

Clark sighed and sat down on the edge of the desk. "It's not that-and you're sure those rats are gone now?"

"Positive."

"Anyway, I know I agreed to take the credit for everything, but I thought that you meant that I should just tell an edited version to our parents and the EMTs. I didn't think you'd make a headline out of it."

"Please, do you know me? The favorite son of Metropolis escapes death thanks to the intervention of a Smallville High student and you expect me not to put it in The Torch, especially when I had a front row seat to everything."

He narrowed his eyes. "That's because you were the one who did all the rescuing."

She slapped him lightly on the arm. "Shh! You promised, besides it looks a little biased if I'd have written about my heroics, not to mention a whole violation of my 'under the radar' policy."

"Yeah, but still, I don't know if I want all the attention."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "So small town hero doesn't appeal to you?"

"It's not that exactly. I mean, it's sort of nice someone notices me aside from the glares I sometimes get from the football team."

"By glares you mean those donations of yours to the Bret and Fitz Lunch Money Foundation?"

"Fine. So it's a little bit more than being glared at," He conceded. "Still, I don't think I like this much attention. I swear twenty kids must have stopped me in that hall from Chem class to here asking if it were true, and I didn't even know any of them."

"Probably seniors." She shrugged. "Don't worry, Homecoming's in two days. The Crows will fly to victory or whatever it is they do, and you'll be a faint footnote in school year history."

"Yeah, well, being mobbed still sucks."

"It's not that bad. It's not like they're asking for autographs."

He brightened at that. "You think they would?"

"See now the attention's not so bad when you have a chance to go all Hollywood."

"Whatever. I wish you'd warned me first. Seriously, didn't you go home after all the ambulances left?"  
>She shook her head. "After that edited down version for my dad-you know, the one where we just dove right in after watching the accident from a safe distance-I begged him to let me come back and finish up The Torch. It's the first official week back and I didn't want to start off my reign as editor with late editions."<p>

"I think massive car accident would have been a sufficient excuse."

"Not at the Planet it wouldn't."

"So I see," He added, picking up the paper in question and glancing at the photo Chloe had taken of the accident scene with the paramedics gathered around Lex. She'd actually used the cell phones of one of the EMTs to not only call her dad but to beg him to bring her spare camera. The other one was, presumably, somewhere at the bottom of the river or, knowing Smallville, in the belly of a poodle-sized toad.

One never knew.

"It's a nice shot, right?"

"Pete would have done it better."

"Not from five miles away."

"Point noted." He said, folding the paper back down. "So, you didn't mention anything real about our adventure to your dad?"

"Hardly. He's very overprotective about everything-"

"Which is why he always lets you pull late nights over here."

"Okay," she amended. "He's overprotective about me and my abilities. He knows I can handle myself when I'm out at, shock of shocks, ten o'clock working here, but he gets nervous about exposure." She added, casting him a significant look.

"Oh, so you didn't want to mention me."

"Kind of. It's a lot of things. There's sort of a prep before I reveal any new powers to my dad. Usually the cooking of waffles is involved."

"Really?"

"Well last time there was. The first two things popped up when I was too little to understand the intricacies of the waffle iron."

"Two? How many abilities do you have?" Clark asked, wide-eyed.

"Well there's the strength."

Clark thought back to the torn Porsche. Yup, she was definitely strong. "Yeah, thanks for pushing me twelve feet by the way."

"You do suck at 'thank yous,' don't you?" She added, shaking her head. "I could have just let the car hit you."

"You wouldn't have, but maybe next time a little less force, huh?"

"So there's going to be a next time?"

"Probably, someone needs to be on deck for when those poodle-frogs show up."

"I hear that they aren't carnivorous."

"Well that's a relief. So, strong's one."

"I'm fast too. You might have noticed that if you weren't all 'deer in the headlights' when the Porsche came barreling our way."

"Yeah, I shouldn't have been distracted by imminent death like that."

"Sorry about the pushing. Even with my speed there wasn't a lot I could do besides push you out of the way and wait to be hit."

He tapped at his still bandaged right ankle. "No worries. It all worked out, but it's a good thing you're invulnerable."

She teased her lower lip between her teeth. "That would be the new one. I didn't know I was invulnerable until I didn't die."

Clark gulped. "Jeez, Chlo, what were you thinking? You had plenty of time to jump out of the way."

"And then you would have been smooshed. See how that was not the best option there?"

She smiled up at him, something so deeply sincere in her gaze. It overwhelmed him. Chloe'd been his best friend besides Pete for over a year now, but he'd never thought of her as anything more than that. The devoted gaze she was giving him now made him begin to wonder if he'd been missing something. He reached out and gave her a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "Thanks."

"No problem. Just remember that next time I need someone to interview the entomology club, you are so nominated."  
>"Well when you put it that way, I am not going to let you save me next time." He said, chuckling. "So, which power was the one where you made waffles?"<p>

Chloe stood up and reached for her digital camera. "That's a story for another time."

"Oh, come on."

"It's a good one, I promise, but doesn't a girl get to have a few surprises?"

"'A few surprises?'"

"Okay, so I have a few more than most girls, but a little mystery never hurt."

"Uh-huh." He said, following her out the door. "Where are we headed to now?"

"I am throwing our conquering hero a bone."

"Are you now?" Clark asked, frowning down at her.

"Yeah, I have to run an article on the new cheerleading squad."

"You have to?"

"Kwan wants all the big pieces for tomorrow to be about the game. Pete's football round-up is going to be there and I have one of my other minions working on coverage of the soccer game. I tried to beg out of the pom-pom beat because, honestly, how interesting is it that they can spell words out loud. I mean, 'Crows' only has five letters, but Kwan didn't see it that way. Said I had poor school spirit."

"Imagine that."

"So, since I am physically incapable of not snarking around girls parading around like something out of a bad '80s music video, and since snark won't get quotes, I'm dragging you along to keep me on track."

"Chloe," he added grinning back at her. "I think I love you for this."

She rolled her eyes. "Wait until volleyball season rolls around."

Clark had to give Chloe one thing. This early in September it was still unbearably hot outside. Sweat was poring down off the back of his neck as he stood by the bleachers, waiting for the cheerleaders to take a break. Off to the far side of the field, he could make out Pete in the middle of a huddle. Shaking his head, he looked over his friend's pads. God, he must have been roasting in it.  
>"Still think you wanna play football?" Chloe teased.<p>

He blinked. "You're not psychic now, too, are you?"

"God no, but you, my friend, are so transparent that telepathy isn't even necessary. You're concentrating awfully hard on that huddle."

"Maybe a little," he said, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. "I think you were right about the two-a-days. It's like an oven out here."

"One, that's a cliché, shame on you. Two, it is not that hot." She quipped, smiling sweetly up at him.

Clark glowered back. Chloe was completely dry with not even a bead of sweat rolling down her temples. He was pretty sure it was just a her thing since, even if women were supposed to "glow" instead of sweat, most of the cheerleaders practicing looked like they'd just gone swimming.

Stupid and yet wonderfully convenient heat wave.

After all, the head cheerleader was quite a sight to see with the dark rim of sweat pooling at the neck line of her t-shirt and drawing attention to her breasts. A loud clap sounding in his ears brought Clark's attention back to the real world.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't have brought you along. I was counting on you for some insightful interview questions but I doubt you'll be able to talk around all that drool."

"Har-har, Chlo."

She glanced at her watch. "Alright, enough of the polite. I have a deadline for this puppy and they aren't going to get any more literate."

"Harsh."

"C-R-O-W-S!" She shouted, mock valley girl accent clear in her voice. "See was the spelling all that hard?"

"Well, there does happen to be a lot of coordination and a few dangerous back flips and pyramids here and there too. It's not just about screaming the word 'go' over and over." Lana said as she stepped over to the water cooler.

Chloe muttered something under her breath and then to Lana added. "Sorry to interrupt practice."

"You're not." Lana said, shaking her head. Clark was momentarily mesmerized by all her shiny hair. "We had to take a break and rehydrate anyway. It wouldn't do any good for all the girls to pass out before the big game on Saturday."

"No, we wouldn't want that." Chloe agreed.

Lana gave her a tight smile and turned away from the cooler to face them both. "So, you have questions, right?"

"Yeah, um, well first we wanted to know how you, um, oh jeez." He fumbled. Talking to the Lana had seemed so much better when he thought he'd actually be able to get a sentence out.

Lana giggled. "It's okay, Clark. Take your time."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Maybe even we could do a little quid pro quo."

"Huh?"

"A tit-for-tat, Clark." Chloe corrected.

"Exactly," Lana added, her smile widening. Staring at all those pearly whites, Clark was convinced that she would have made a fortune as a model for toothpaste commercials. She stepped right up to him and draped her hand over his forearm, as she stepped up, Chloe took a very deliberate step back.

If Lana noticed, she didn't say anything.

However, Clark doubted that she had. Instead, she was staring right back at him and not in the polite, I-sort-of-know-you way she did sometimes across the hall. No, this was the lean and hungry look he'd resigned himself to only seeing in his dreams.

"I heard about the accident. Did you really save Lex's life?"

Clark glanced quickly to Chloe who nodded back at him. "Ah, yeah, I guess so, but it really wasn't a big deal or anything."

"Not a big deal? You saved the life of one of the richest men in the country. That's a huge deal. I mean, even the Planet mentioned it this morning."

Chloe snorted this time and mumbled something he barely discerned as "Like you can even recognize the Planet, let alone read it."

Lana, however, remained oblivious to the snark and leaned in closer to him. "My Aunt Nell and Lionel have been, um, friends for years. I think it's so cool how you saved Lex."

"Oh, do you know him?"

"I bumped into him at a party once. It was…memorable." She said. "Still, it is just so amazing. Everyone in school is talking about it."

"Well, yeah, there might have been a few questions at lunch and stuff."

"You know, Clark, I was just thinking."

"Did it hurt?" Chloe whispered from her corner.

By this point, Clark had decided that Lana either needed a hearing aid or was deliberately ignoring Chloe. She leaned even closer toward him and he could feel her breasts pressed against the bottom of his chest. Oh boy.

"What, um, what were you thinking?"

"Well, we've lived only a mile apart our whole lives and we've never really talked. Don't you think that's weird?"

"Um, well, my mom doesn't really like Nell all that much."

"I know but we've been in school together forever and I think this is the longest conversation we've ever had."

It was. It beat there old record holder where Clark asked her for a spare pen in Biology class and she'd handed it off to him by like a dozen sentences. "Yeah, it is."

"I think that's too bad. Hey, you know what we should do to fix that?"

"Talk more?"

Off to his right, Chloe laughed.

"No, silly. I was thinking we could go to Homecoming together. You could tell me all about meeting Lex and everything and we could finally get to know each other."

It was official. At some point yesterday afternoon, probably the last five minutes before he'd left The Torch, he'd been pulled into the Twilight Zone. First, his best friend apparently had superpowers, then he became the hero of Smallville, and now Lana Lang-_ the Lana Lang _-was asking him out. Oh god, maybe he'd actually been hit by the car and this was some warped coma-dream.  
>Of course, just on the off chance this was still reality, it would have been rude to say no. She asked so nicely.<p>

"I'd…I'd love to."

Her smile widened so much that he swore he could see every tooth in her mouth. "Wonderful. You can come by my house at seven on Saturday and we can do dinner before the dance."

"What about Whitney?" Chloe asked.

Lana shook her head. "He's been so busy with all the preparing for the game, and, besides, things haven't been all that great between us since I started high school."

"Well, there is that bloom off the rose scenario now that you're not in eighth grade." Chloe quipped.

Lana narrowed her eyes at Chloe. "You had questions."

"Yeah, fine," Chloe said, pulling out her notebook and reading off the stock questions in record time. After a few awkward minutes of Chloe scribbling down Lana's quotes and Clark hovering over Chloe in a desperate effort to keep her civil, the interview was blessedly over.

Lana sighed and picked her pom-poms back up. "Well, it's been fun." Despite her words, her tone indicated that she'd rather have sat through an extra long geometry class instead of do the interview again. She smiled back up at him and he flushed. "Until Saturday, right Clark?"

"Yeah."

"Chloe," She said curtly, stepping around the other girl as she made her way to the field.

Clark was busy staring at her, ahem, assets as she walked away, when Chloe suddenly stumbled and fell into him. He caught her quickly and helped her limp over to the bleachers. She sat there for a few minutes, hunched over her knees, and gasping in deep breaths.

He picked up the dropped notebook and passed it back and forth between his hands as he waited for her to start breathing normally again. After her gasps stopped, he leaned over and asked, "Chlo? Are you alright."

"Yeah, I'm fine." She said, forcing herself into a sitting position. "Lana always makes me feel like that."

"Look I know you're all Daria when it comes to Lana Lang, but I don't think cheerleading causes people to hyperventilate."

"No. It's not like that at all. I mean whenever I'm close enough to her I feel really sick-nauseous, dizzy, the whole works. It's really weird too because the first time it happened I had no idea what it even meant."

"Huh?"

"I don't get sick either, not ever, but there's something about Lana that makes my stomach cramp up."

"I've never heard about someone being allergic to another person before."

She shrugged. "I've felt dizzy a few other times around town when she wasn't around so maybe it's something in Smallville. Maybe something in the soil around her yard or a special Fordman's fabric softener. Who knows?"

"Still, allergic to Lana. That is so weird."

"Gee, thanks."

"It just seems like a tragedy."

She rolled her eyes. "Not all of us worship at her pretty pink altar. Hey!" She said, snapping her fingers. "Maybe it's the color pink I'm allergic to."

"Yeah, that's likely."

"Well I can run from here to Metropolis and back in fifteen minutes. I _could _have an allergy to a color."

"Right." He said, pulling her notepad from her hands. "So, can we go ahead and work on putting the paper to bed because-"

"I have chores, I know. Invest in a new set of cue cards once in a while." Chloe chided as she started back through the stands and back to the school's main building. "You aren't really going to do it, are you?"

"Do what?"

"Go with Lana to Homecoming."

"Are you serious? Why don't you just ask me to return some lottery winnings while you're at it? I've been waiting for this for years, practically my whole life."

"I know." She said, her voice quiet and thoughtful. "And I'm happy you're happy but doesn't it seem a little sudden?"

"A lot of things have come on suddenly lately."

She rolled her eyes at that. "I'm serious. What about Whitney? Pete's probably the only thing keeping the football team from swirling you to death on a regular basis. If you steal the quarterback's girlfriend, they really are going to kill you."

"And she said that they weren't going to the dance together anyway. Can't you just be happy for me the one time? I mean, you're already going with Pete."

"Who I know likes me and not my media coverage. I can tell that by the fact we've actually had conversations."

"Lana and I talk."

"You had an interview. By that definition of talking, Larry King should be best friends with every celebrity and world leader on the planet by now."

"Fine. It's a little weird, I know, but maybe my luck is finally coming in." He said, glancing back to the football field. "It's about time, too."

"Well, that's good." She said, her voice slightly hollow. "Do you two want to double with me and Pete?"

"Sure, that'd be cool, but I'd have to drive over in the station wagon."

"Smallville Homecoming, not the Oscars. We'll live."

He chuckled. "Cool then. We can be over at Pete's by 7:30."

"Deal then." She added, holding out her palm.

He frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Give me the notebook. I'll type up the article and finish off the layout for tonight."

"Really? You were here late night last night."

Stopping, she sighed and turned to him. "I don't have chores and dad's been putting in late hours at the plant since we first moved here. It's been mismanaged in the past and he and Lex are working to fix it, but it's almost bankrupt."

"That sucks."  
>"Yeah, well, we have to eat so he has to work. I don't mind really. Dad's great about making weekends all about us, and it's not like I don't have late night editor duties. Besides," She added, laughing bitterly. "I still haven't figured out how to break it to him that there's one more person out there in on The Big Secret."<p>

"I could always come over to dinner with you on Sunday. It's been a long time since I've had Gabe Sullivan's Famous Spaghetti."

"You know it's just Prego sauce, right?"

"But he's so proud of it." Clark shrugged. "We can't all cook like my mom."

"God, I wish my dad made pie that good. Now _that's _an ability." She smiled and pulled the notebook delicately out of his grip. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Of course and then we'll have a blast Homecoming night."

Her smile faltered for an instant as she nodded. "Exactly." Her grin widened and became more genuine after a minute. Arching her neck, she looked to her left and to her right before turning back to him. "Hey Clark?"

"What?"

"Watch this." She said and then she was gone, blurring away so fast that the only thing left behind was a stiff breeze.

He whistled. No that was _fast _.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

The Luthor mansion at nine P.M. was the last place that Clark expected to be that night. He had a test tomorrow in English. Mr. Adams, the ninth grade English teacher, was as sadistic as he was paranoid. Every year, the incoming freshman had to read _The Good Earth _and every year there was a test on the material. Dutiful as always, Clark had read the book back in July and had even taken notes as he'd done it. However, the test was more of the inane detail variety than about themes and major plot points. It was the only way Mr. Adams could think to ensure that the students had actually read the story. After all,_Cliff's Notes _gave you the basic literary rundown. It did not, however, tell you how many silver coins Wang Lung earned his first day as a rickshaw driver.

See that was the kind of minutia he needed to retain.

Sadistic right?

Clark sighed as he pulled up to the front gate of Luthor Manor. It was hard to keep from gaping at the old Scottish castle in front of him. Everyone had seen the trucks rolling through town and moving in the stones for it. It had taken weeks for everything to be shipped. However, the house had stood empty for over a decade. The closest he'd ever been to it before was with Pete and his brothers three years ago. They'd dared him and Pete to hop the fence (a difficult but not impossible feat) and spend the night on the mansion's steps. Before hand, of course, Sam and David Ross had told them both a host of ghost stories about the property (all fake). He and Pete had lasted half and hour before they'd seen a "ghost" and run for it. They'd hopped to the other side of the fence and run screaming to Sam only to find him and David, an old bed sheet balled up at his feet, rolling on the ground laughing.

Ever since, Clark hadn't been fond of the place.

Still, he had to return the truck he'd been given because he'd promised his dad he'd give it back. It pained him to no end to be doing it. First, it was a beautiful car and brand new. Their old truck was over a decade old and was busted almost as often as it worked. Second, he didn't quite understand his dad's objections. Alright, so Lionel had earned his money by swindling more than a few of his neighbors and family friends. That was terrible. However, it was Lex who'd purchased the car and it's not like the money hadn't possibly come from his own life savings or money from his mother's side of the family. Finally, Clark was embarrassed about giving it back. It seemed to him to be an ungrateful gesture and slightly insulting. It's not like Lex could help who his father was.

But when his dad told him to do something, Clark listened. It was just the kind of obedient son he was. Besides, he did feel slightly wonky about keeping the vehicle. He'd given the CPR, but Chloe'd been the one to pry Lex out of the car and drag him to shore. If she hadn't been there, he'd probably still be stuck in the damn Porsche.

Chloe was better than the Jaws of Life.

Shaking his head, Clark pressed the call button outside the gate and waited for one of the guards to answer him. There was a long pause and Clark reached out his finger to press it again, just in case they hadn't heard him the first time, when someone beat him to it.

Delicate fingers bedecked with tangerine nail polish held the button down and clued in Clark to who his companion was.

Looking down, he smiled. "Hey Chloe. What's up?"

"Not the paper, thank God. I finally got that thing finished."

"It's nine usually you get done a lot faster."

"You have no idea." She said smirking.

He titled his head at her. "You don't type up everything in superspeed, do you?"  
>She shrugged. "I go as fast as the computer lets me but the stupid thing shorts out if you go too fast, so not quite. However, I was stuck on finding an innocuous way to describe this year's cheerleading squad. I was sorely tempted just to let the bitterness out."<p>

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Slightly tempted?"

"It's a subtle piece of writing I've finished." She gloated. "I mean, it praises their ability to spell complex phrases and everything."

"I see."

She shrugged again. "Kwan made me write it. He never said I couldn't editorialize a bit."

"Uh-huh." Clark said, pressing the button a third time. "So what brings you here?"

Chloe pointed over her shoulder to where his truck was parked. Beside it sat an equally new convertible Volkswagen Beetle. "Lex apparently believes that nothing says thank you like something shiny and with horsepower."

Clark snorted. "I don't think Herbies have ever been accused of having horsepower."

"You mock my car but she's a beauty."

"Are you actually keeping it?"

She frowned. "Why wouldn't I? I mean, it's not like I was demanding payment or anything for services rendered, but Lex is my dad's boss. I can't just give it back and be all ungrateful about it. It would make things too awkward at work for my dad. Besides, I really wasn't looking forward to driving the Falcon when I got my permit."

"Uh-huh. I was going to ask about that."

She shrugged again. "It's Mayberry not Metropolis. I drive on a few back country roads and no one's going to notice. Not this late at night. My new baby will just have to sit in the garage and wait for me until November."

"Smallville." Clark corrected out of habit. He had nothing against Andy Griffith and company but he still got annoyed when Chloe referred to his hometown as that fictional North Carolinian hamlet.

Chloe put her hands on her hips and groaned. "You think billionaires could afford good help. We've been waiting for ten minutes."  
>"Maybe he's still unpacking."<p>

"Servants in boxes, nice touch." She conceded.

"Well," he added thoughtfully, "You're the one with superpowers. Why don't you just hop the fence or whatever?"

"You mean pull a Buffy? No thank you. Despite showing off for you this afternoon, I don't go around using them in public and I certainly wouldn't do it here. Are you nuts? Rich people are paranoid about all their stuff and thus have cameras everywhere. I superjump over the fence and even odds says he gets footage of it." She finished, rolling her eyes.

"I'm sorry I even suggested it."

"I'm just trying to be careful. However if the stupid guard doesn't show up soon, you're more than welcome to give me a boost over the side."

Clark thought about that and the vantage point that would give him of her rear and felt his cheeks flush. "Um, well, gee…" He was spared from finishing that thought when Lex's butler approached the gate.

"May I help you?"

"Chloe Sullivan." Chloe said, pulling out her laminated press pass from The Torch. "My dad's Gabe Sullivan. He's the plant manager, and this is my friend Clark Kent." She finished, gesturing toward him.

The butler nodded and opened the gate immediately. "Of course, Mr. Kent and Miss Sullivan. You've both been put on the unlimited access list to the mansion."

Clark whistled. "Are you serious?"

"Mr. Luthor would be remiss if he didn't extend all courtesies to the people who saved his life, wouldn't he?"

"I guess." Clark said.

The butler chuckled a little. "He's been expecting you. Mr. Luthor figured you'd eventually come in person to thank him for the gifts, although I don't even think he predicted that you'd do it in tandem."

Chloe shrugged. "Clark and I share a brain. It's the only way he can lay claim to half of one."

"Ha-ha." Clark griped as they made their way up the front stairs and into the main hallway.

The butler stopped and gave them both a deep bow. "Mr. Luthor is in the exercise room two doors down on the left." He straightened. "My name's Enrique. If there's anything you need, you simply have to ask."

"Thanks." Clark said and turned to follow the already advancing Chloe down the hall. He caught up with her just as she was opening the door. Leaning down, he said, "This place is huge."

"Ostentatious much?" Chloe added. "However, I don't know if I'd want to live here. I get Hell House vibes from this place."

Clark snorted and followed her into the exercise room. "I keep telling you that too many horror movies are going to rot your brain."

"Uh-huh and too many science fiction movies and comic books are going to rot yours."

"Graphic novels." He corrected, stopping in his tracks to watch as Lex and another person fenced back and forth in front of him. "Wow."

One of the two fighters before them (Clark had no idea which was Lex and which was not, considering the heavy masks they wore) had the other pressed nearly against the far wall. A quick thrust and the buttoned tip had hit the loser square in the chest. A second later, a frustrated Lex tore off his helmet and threw his foil towards him and Chloe.

Chloe gave him a quick push and ducked herself as the foil embedded itself almost a foot above her head and exactly where his throat would have been.

Taking a deep breath, Clark bent down and whispered in Chloe's ear. "I'm going to have to start keeping a 'saving my life' tab, aren't I? God, the speed comes in handy."

She whispered back. "It's not the speed. It's the reporter's instincts. I actually pay attention to my surroundings and you're welcome. Put interviewing the lunch lady down on the tab with the entomology club."

"Lady editors," he grumbled as Lex walked over to both of them, concern etched on his face.

"Clark, Chloe, I am so sorry. I had no idea you were there. It's not the impression I wanted to make on the two people who saved my life."

Clark shook his head. "Don't worry. We're cool. It's not like you mean to do it."  
>"Hardly." Lex said and then glanced down at Chloe. "Good thing you're so quick."<p>

"Like I was telling Clark earlier, it's not about being quick. It's about being aware of your surroundings."

"So I see," Lex said, still not withdrawing his gaze from her. After a minute, he turned back over his shoulder and delivered a few terse commands in what Clark guessed must have been Swedish or possibly Danish. Lex's opponent removed her helmet, letting her long blond hair flow freely down her back. Clark gaped. He really hadn't expected the sparring partner to be a girl.

His mom was going to kill him for having a sexist thought.

The woman nodded back at Lex and said something else in rapid fire Danish (?) before leaving the room through the back door.

Lex turned back to them. "That was Heikia, my fencing instructor, and since she'd done kicking my ass for the day, would you like to come up to my study to talk?"

Chloe nodded. "Any place that smells a little less like a gym is fine by me."

Lex chuckled. "Follow me then."

He led them out of the room and through a maze of hallways that finally led to a grand staircase, the twisting kind with heavy and ornately carved rails that reminded Clark vaguely of the staircase from _Tara _in_Gone With the Wind _, and he so needed to never let Chloe pick the movies at movie night again. Pete was good for some good old fashioned action flicks, but Chloe was strictly classics. Last time it had been her choice, he'd had to sit through _Harvey _, which, to be fair, hadn't been all that bad.

But still, he preferred entertainment from this century.

As they made their way through the second floor, Clark said, "This is really a great place."

"If you're dead and in the market for a place to haunt." Lex replied, smirking.

"That's one way to put it." Chloe agreed, her tone as sarcastic as their host's. "You don't have ghosts do you?"

"Not as far as I know, but if you'd like to play ghostbuster, I'm sure an open house can be arranged."

Chloe quirked her head at him. "Who said I was interested in ghost busting?"  
>"I talked to your dad for a long time this afternoon. He didn't mention that to you?"<p>

She stilled for a second before responding, "I got home late from The Torch and by then it was all about the new car and making sure I got over here to thank you. He didn't mention work."

"Hmm, curious." Lex said. "I thought he might have brought it up, considering how many good things came up about you, even aside from your heroics."

She shook her head. "I paddled around in the river like a Golden Retriever after a duck. Clark's the one who got you out."

"Of course." Lex said, his tone condescending. "Still, your dad did mention your pet project, the Wall of Wacky, I believe it was."

"Weird, actually," Clark corrected as they entered into Lex's study. It was a fairly empty room with one small desk, a long full-length mirror, and a drink cart stocked with blue bottles of water and orange juice in a crystal vase.

"My mistake. The Wall of Weird, then."

"Yeah, well, if you do turn up a haunting let me know. That would be a Hell of a lot more interesting as an article than yet another puff piece rife with school spirit."

Clark rolled his eyes. "Homecoming's getting to her."

"It is," She agreed. "If I see one giant Crow made out of paper mache, it's getting upgraded to effigy."

Lex laughed. "I like that attitude. I was never fond of athletics at Excelsior either." He walked over to the cart and poured a glass of orange juice for each of them and handed them off. Unscrewing the cap of the water bottle, he lifted it to his lips and took a long sip. "So, how are the new rides?"

"Very nice." Chloe said, grinning. "I love her."

"Her?"

"Oh, it's definitely a her. I still have to think up a name. I think it's coming down to Velma or Daphne."

"Scooby Doo fan then?" Lex asked.

"Sometimes I feel like all I do in this place is Scooby around." She replied. "There's always something weird around here to investigate."  
>"I'll bet." Lex said, staring hard at her. No one said anything for several long minutes.<p>

Finally, desperate to break the tension, Clark added, "We research things for the WoW all the time. We were actually on the bridge looking for these, um, giant toads." And boy that sounded a lot lamer out loud.

"I see. Well lucky for me you were both there. I'm sorry about the accident."

"You're the one who almost drowned." Chloe said, finally having recovered her ability to speak. "Besides, it's not like you can help the fact that some guy didn't chain down his roll of barbed wire securely enough."

Clark nodded. "Yeah exactly."

"That didn't seem to be your father's sentiments."

"About that. Lex, I'm really sorry about my dad. He doesn't really like your dad, and he took it out on you and that wasn't very fair."

Lex shrugged and turned to look into the mirror, running a hand self-consciously over his bare scalp. Still staring at the mirror, he said, "It's okay. I've been bald since I was nine. I'm used to people judging me. Your father just figures that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Turning back to them, he added, "What about you, Clark, did you fall far from the tree."

"Clark's adopted." Chloe said flatly.

"Sorry to bring it up then."

Clark shrugged. "It's not that big a deal. It's not like I haven't known it for years and I love my parents."

"You should feel lucky then, I guess, not everyone has their parents handpick them." There was a bitter undertone in his voice and Clark had the uncomfortable feeling that Lex was saying more about himself than he'd intended too.

Lex turned his attention to Chloe. "What about you, Chloe? Are you an example of nature or nurture?"

"I'm not adopted and I'm hoping I favor my father."

"You do have a sharp wit, I'll give you that."

Chloe sighed. "I apologize in advance for my father's jokes. He thinks he's funny."  
>"He tries and he's a lot better than the sycophants and boring by-the-book lapdogs my father surrounds himself with. Gabe's a good man. Loyal, I can tell."<p>

Chloe shifted uncomfortably. "Thanks. I'll tell him you said that." She fidgeted in place before looking down at her watch. "I have to go. I need to study for my reading test anyway. Clark, are you coming?"

He shook his head. "I need to stay here. I think I'm going to have to give an explanation."

"For what?" Lex asked.

"It's complicated." Clark conceded. Then, turning back to her added. "I'll see you tomorrow at school."

She nodded. "Deal and don't forget your Pearl S. Buck trivia," She said before exiting out the door.

Lex waited for a few minutes, finishing off his water and starting another, allowing Chloe sometime to get away from the room before he continued the conversation. Eventually, he spoke again, "So, Clark, what's complicated?"

He looked down at the floor and felt his face flush. "I can't keep the truck."

"Wrong color?"

"No, my dad doesn't want to keep anything from a Luthor. He says the money's tainted." He hazarded a glance back up at Lex. The same polite smile was still on his face, but there was a rigidity to his posture that hadn't been there before.

"I understand."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to keep it and I don't care what your father does or doesn't do, but I can't just disobey either. I'm sorry if I offended you."

"It's okay." Lex said, leaning back against the drink cart. "I guess you'll just have to settle for the offer of my friendship."

"Friendship? What could you possibly want to do with a fifteen year old kid from Nowheresville?"

"First of all, I'd be a fool not to offer my friendship to someone who bravely risked his life for mine. Secondly, if Chloe'd stuck around, I would have been able to extend the offer to both of you."

"Okay, so a fifteen year old from Nowheresville and a relocated 14 year old Metropolitan."

Lex shook his head. "You sell both of you short, Clark. You're both very interesting, much more so than most of the vapid debutantes and trust funders of Metropolis, especially Chloe."

Clark ignored the feeling of his lungs constricting just a little. Taking in a slow breath, he willed his heart to slow down. "Chloe?"

Lex nodded. "Remarkable really. Some of last year's Torch is on-line and I spent the afternoon reading over her articles. Insightful, analytical, better written than any of the senior reporters, but that, as the old axiom goes, really is just the tip of the iceberg with her, isn't it?"

He swallowed and forced himself not to break his gaze from Lex. "I guess so. She's kind of like this little tornado or energy, very commanding too. You just wanna do what she says. I think that's why she's editor already."

"Oh, I don't doubt that. It's just that I feel that I don't know her very well or even have an adequate grasp of who she is. I tried to get some details from Gabe, but he was uncharacteristically closed off for him. Get him going on her accomplishments or the latest water cooler gossip or a knock-knock joke, and he might never stop. Ask him certain things about Chloe and he clams right up."

"What kind of things?"

Lex smiled at him. The expression made him more uneasy than he'd been before. "Anything about her heroics, her resilience if you will."

"We just did what anyone would have done."

"I don't think just anyone would have survived barreling through a Jersey barrier at sixty miles an hour."

It took everything Clark had not to let his voice break as he answered. "You hit your head really hard on the steering wheel, Lex. That probably caused you to see things that weren't there. I watched the whole thing as it happened. You missed her."

"And yet when I started speeding right for the barrier, you were the one in front of me and not her. You got out of the way very quickly."

"Fight or flight, right?"

Lex pursed his lips, his mood darkening. "I suppose so. Still, she's extraordinary." Then as an afterthought he added, "And you've been a great help." Lex crossed the room and put a hand on Clark's shoulder. "We have a future together, the three of us, a destiny."

"I've never been much of a fatalist myself."

Lex laughed. "Well that's certainly a choice vocabulary term, Clark."

"Fifteen, not stupid." He corrected.

Lex nodded. "My apologies. I don't intend to underestimate you or Chloe again."

"I appreciate that."

"Remember," Lex said, as he led Clark out the door, "there's a destiny between us, I can feel it, like the stuff of legends."

Clark didn't like the speech or the maniacal glint in Lex's eyes as he recited it.


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

The next morning, Clark was standing in the middle of a crowd outside of the local car repair garage, gaping as the paramedics whisked two injured grease monkeys to the hospital. He had missed the bus and had been forced to ride with his dad to Fordman's to pick up some tools for the farm before going to school. However, what had started out as a quick trip, ended up with him being stuck in the middle of a throng of on-lookers.

A camera flash drew his attention to a familiar face across the crowd.

As quickly as he could, Clark maneuvered through the masses and came to stand next to Pete. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"I could have asked you the same question." Pete said, clicking away with his camera.

"Well I was with my dad getting a new set of shovels and you?"

"Sam wanted a Beanery fix before first period and I wanted a ride in the convertible and a shot of caffeine too."

"Cool," Clark said looking down at his watch. "We're going to be late, you know."

"Correction. _You're _going to be late. I have free period first this morning. I don't have to be in until nine."

"Damn. Lucky."  
>"I know."<p>

Clark laughed but sobered as he spotted a sallow kid staring intently at the men being eased into the back of the ambulance. The intensity of his gaze was unnerving. It was almost like he was enjoying this. "Hey Pete, who's the weirdo?"

"I don't know. Let me get a picture of him. We might be able to check in some of the old school yearbooks or something. He seems familiar somehow." He said, clicking one last picture.

For the first time in his life, Clark skipped class. He had never liked woodshop much to begin with and even though when his parents found out what he'd done, he'd be toast, he couldn't work up the energy to be worried. He just knew that something was seriously off about their mystery kid and he needed to find out what it was.

He and Pete had spent the last forty minutes leafing through the old school yearbooks. They'd actually had to work their way back to 1989 before they finally got there match.

"Hah! I knew it. Jeremy Creek. He used to be in the debate team with my older brother Paul."

"The one who's a lawyer now?"

"Well, the Rosses are a big family, Clark, and he's my oldest brother. Anyway, the poor kid got made the school scarecrow the day of the meteor shower. It was awful."

"How so?"

"He became sick, probably something that the meteors did, if Chloe's theory holds up. He had like this huge electrolyte imbalance or something. It tore Paul up. They'd been really close in middle school. He kept visiting Jeremy every couple of months until he went off to college but the kid never got better."

Clark pointed to the view screen of Pete's digital camera. "Well he looks a hell of a lot better now."

"I know and he doesn't look any older than he did when the yearbook photo was taken. How do you explain that?"

He shrugged. "Electrolyte imbalance? I don't know. If we could get a look at his medical records, then we'd probably have a better idea of why he's been all Rip Van Winkled."

"Hacking stuff is Chloe's specialty." Pete said, frowning. "Where is Supergirl anyway? I didn't see her at The Torch when I went by to drop off my scoop."  
>"I don't know. I didn't see her in the halls either and I passed her art class on the way here and peered in. She wasn't there either."<p>

Pete's frown deepened. "When have you ever known Chloe to miss a day of school? She's never sick."

Chloe's perfect attendance record was infamous and Clark now had the distinct suspicion there was a meteor rock shaped reason for it. "You're right." He said, hopping up from his seat and grabbing his jacket.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm already skipping shop class. I might as well go for broke and find her."

"You mean leave campus and go all the way to her house. Clark, man, I'm sure she's fine. You can wait until three."

He shook his head. What if Lex had done something? I just can't. Not today."

Pete stood up and started to the door. "Then what are we waiting for. Let's go get our intrepid reporter some chicken soup and some O.J."

Clark put his hand on Pete's shoulder. "Just me. It's hard enough for one person to sneak off campus. Besides, you have a connection. Maybe Paul remembers more about Jeremy Creek than you do. You could try calling him and getting the dirt on his medical history."

"Clark, I just don't want to abandon Chloe when she's sick."

"It can't wait until 3, can't it? Besides, the more info we get on Jeremy the better. I'd bet the farm's mortgage that he hurt those garage workers somehow."

Pete nodded. "Those guys looked familiar. I think they were in some of the 1989 Homecoming pictures."

"Football players, you mean?"

"Yeah, exactly."

"So Jeremy is putting the hurt on former jocks. Why?"

"Are you serious? Did you not just hear me tell you that he was the scarecrow?"

"Of course I did, but what's the big deal about the scarecrow?"

"You haven't heard about the scarecrow. I thought your dad would have mentioned it by now. I thought I told you about it when I was begging you to come out for football with me."

Clark restrained the urge to scream when Pete mentioned try-outs. He was still so frustrated that he couldn't play. "I told you, I can't play because of my asthma and because my parents are ridiculously overprotective."

"I didn't mean to rub your nose in it. I just can't believe it skipped my mind. Anyway, every year the football team selects one freshmen boy and string him up on a cross in a field outside of the LuthorCorp plant. Every year until we sold off the creamed corn factory, my dad or my uncles would wait out in that field to try and stop it but the kids always pulled some sort of prank or managed to distract them. They spent over a decade pulling poor kids off the cross before they caught hypothermia."

"Jesus. That sounds like years of therapy waiting to happen."

"I know. So now you get why Jeremy would go all terminator on the people who made him the scarecrow. It's bad enough to be out there any year, but in the middle of the meteor shower and to be put into a coma. The dude's pissed, Clark."

"All the more reason we have to stop him. Call Paul and I'll see if Chloe's up to hacker duties. I'll be back."

"Cool, Clark, man. Hey," Pete added, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. "Tell Chloe I hope she feels better."

Clark grinned back at him. "I'm sure she'll feel up to going to Homecoming tomorrow. Lana and I are really looking forward to the double date."

Pete shook his head. "Lana Lang. I have no idea how you pulled that off."

"Some guys just have all the luck."

"Yeah right. You sold your soul, didn't you, man? It's cool if you admit it, I'll never tell the 'rents."

"Ha-ha, Pete. Maybe she just finally fell for my charm."

"Uh-huh." Pete said, rolling his eyes. "Just go check on Chloe before your head swells too much for you to be able to walk."

Clark knocked on the door for ten minutes, waiting for Chloe or Mr. Sullivan to open it up for him. After that, he figured that Mr. Sullivan must have been forced to go to work and that (hopefully) Chloe was upstairs sleeping. She might not have the flu but maybe the trauma of the last few days had finally caught up to her. If he'd been hit by a car, he'd certainly need to sleep it off. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Chloe's home number. She had a phone right next to her bed on a night stand, if she were up there, she'd wake up.

Ring, ring, ring.

No answer.

Finally, frustrated and scared, Clark walked back out into her front yard. He stared at the rock garden to the left side of her stairs and counted three rocks to the right. Picking up a large grey one, he was relieved to find that he still remembered where the Sullivan's hide-a-key was stashed. Undoing the hatch at the bottom of the not-rock, Clark pulled out the key and bounded back to the door. He opened it and stepped into the front hall.

"Chloe! Come on. It's Clark. I've been standing outside for the last ten minutes and I tried calling. Are you okay?"

Silence was his only answer.

Worried, Clark rushed up the stairs and checked her bedroom and bathroom. When he didn't see her in either room, he made a full sweep of the second floor then he worked his way down to the first floor. She wasn't anywhere to be found. Finally, he spied the door next to the pantry in the kitchen. It was ajar.

Clark frowned. Over the last year, he'd been over to the Sullivans' house almost every day. Every time he'd ever been over, the door had been shut and a heavy clasp, secured by a sturdy padlocked had kept it secured. Her father had once joked that his own personal man cave was down there and that it wasn't for the Peanut Gallery. Clark always figured that meant that he kept alcohol down there and out of Chloe's reach (as if she'd ever drink underage).

Right now, he was certain that was _not _what Mr. Sullivan had been keeping hidden.

He walked carefully down the stairs, keeping his head bent low to avoid hitting it on the low ceiling. It was dark as he went, the only light spilling down the stairs from the fluorescent lights in the kitchen above. He'd fumbled for a light switch along both walls at the top of the stairwell but found none.

It was weird.

When he got to the bottom, he called out again. "Chloe? Are you down here?"

As before, there was no answer and he turned to shuffle back up the stairs, when a sniffling caught his attention.

He glanced back into the darkness. "Chlo?"

"Go away, Clark." Her voice was small and broken when she spoke and it shocked him. He'd never heard her that upset. Chloe had too much bravado to ever breakdown and weep in front of him. Yell, sure. Cry like a typical girl, not so much.

He took a few steps forward and banged his shin into a workbench. "Damn it, Chloe. Where are the stupid lights in this place?"

"There's one right over my head. It's the only one. My dad wanted it to stay dark down here. The better to hide it with, my dear."

"Well that doesn't really help me, now does it?"

He heard the fabric of her blouse rustle as she shrugged. "It doesn't bother me much. I can see fine."

"Cat's eyes?" He asked, moderately impressed.

"Something like that." She said. "Now that we're all caught up, could you please just leave?"

Clark put his hand out and leaned against the workbench. "No. I was worried about you. After the way Lex was staring at you yesterday, I was half afraid he'd done something. Or, even worse, that you weren't really okay from the accident that, I don't know, maybe there was internal bleeding or something."

"Not quite, but Lex did do something."

"That jerk."

"Not like that." She defended. "He didn't mean to do it at all, but he ended up showing me what a huge freak I really am."

"Don't talk like that. Just because you're a little stronger and faster than everybody else, doesn't mean you're a freak. I mean, it's not like you can melt yourself into a puddle on command or anything. There are a lot of weird people in Smallville."

She barked out a laugh. "There are a lot of weird _humans _in Smallville."

He didn't like where she put the emphasis in that last sentence. "And cows, don't forget the six-legged cows." He tried to joke.

She didn't laugh. Instead, she asked, "How willing are you to be my secret keeper?"

He arched his eyebrows and for an instant felt stupid, thinking that she couldn't see him. Then he remembered that she could, that Chloe could practically do anything. "There's more?"

She laughed again and Clark was quickly learning to loath that sound. "What you've seen so far isn't even the prologue."

Clark took a deep breath, steadying himself. Honestly, he couldn't think how Chloe was going to top superstrength, superspeed, and invulnerability. When he spoke again, his question even surprised him. "Have you been holding out on me since the accident?"

"No," she snapped. "My dad's been holding out on me since I got here."

He definitely didn't like that last turn of phrase either. "Holding out what?"

"Look, Clark, I didn't mean for you to see anything. No one but my mom and dad have ever seen what I can do. No one. It's the number one rule in the Sullivan household, the only one that matters-I don't get caught using my powers."

"Well if you hadn't used them in front of me, Lex and I would be dead so I can't say I'm sorry that you broke the rule."

"I know," She said, and he could hear her squirming a bit against the wall. "But you can walk away right now. Pretend that you don't know anything. I can't make you unsee anything-I don't have that kind of power, even though mind wiping would be all kinds of useful-but we can go back to like before. I never do anything in front of you again and you never mention that day on the bridge. Total square one."

"I'm just supposed to ignore everything you can do?" He asked, his tone incredulous.

"It'd be better if you did."

"No way. You spent all last year lying to me and pretending everything was normal and I don't resent you because that's probably really smart considering everything you can do, but it used to be just you and your dad and now I'm in on this and I want to help."

"You can't."

"Look, Chlo," He said, resisting the urge to start pacing. It wouldn't do anyone any good if he tripped over himself in the dark. "It's not like you're really an arms dealer or in the mafia or Norman Bates or something. I'm sure it's not so bad. Seriously, after superstrength how much worse could it get?"

"You don't know the half of it."

"Then fucking show me. I'm not going anywhere until you do. Hell, I'll go over to the plant right now and tell your dad I know everything and then I'll get the truth out of him. I'm in this, whether you like it or not, so just go ahead and tell me."

She sighed and he could picture her with her head in her hands like she'd been at the riverbank. "You asked for it."

And just like that the room brightened. Clark blinked. No sooner had Chloe finished talking than the room was bathed in the light of half a dozen candles. There were two or three sitting on his work bench and four others scattered across a table in the far corner of the basement. Chloe sat huddled along the side of the wall he'd been leaning against, only a few feet down from him. In front of her was…well he wasn't sure what the Hell it was.

Confused, Clark took off his glasses and tried cleaning them off against the flannel of his shirt. When he put them back on, the thing in front of him didn't look any clearer. Dazed, he walked over to the large, egg-shaped structure and ran his hand over it. It was smooth to the touch, frictionless but for the scorch marks on its side. Engraved on the top was a collection of hieroglyphics that reminded him vaguely of something out of ancient Egypt but clearly weren't.

Clark was far from a linguistics expert. In fact he only had a few years of Kansas State Board of Education approved Spanish, but he was pretty sure what he was looking at wasn't any language that had ever been seen on Earth.

His first clue was the big honking spaceship the symbols were carved into.

He stood there, stroking the strange language and gathering his thoughts before he turned back to look at her. He'd never seen her look this bad. She was still in her clothes from the night before and her eyes were blood shot and puffy from crying. Her hair was mussed in a dozen different places from where she'd obviously run her hands through it, and her pants were covered in dust.

It was clear she hadn't moved from her spot since last night.

"Chlo," he prodded, his hand still on the ship, grounding him to this new reality. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Well it sure as Hell isn't a cappuccino machine."

"Okay, so it can be so bad if you can still snark."  
>"Oh, it's that bad."<p>

"This…this can't be real."

She snorted. "Yeah, I've been saying that to myself a lot in the last twelve hours."

"Chloe," He said, knocking on the metal beside him. "This is a spaceship."

"Yeah, I kind of noticed that."

His eyes narrowed at her. "It's yours."

"No, we're just holding it for ALF until he finishes his cat binge. Of course it's mine. Keep up!"

He swallowed hard. Clark started over to her but stopped. He couldn't bear to take his hands off t he ship. He wasn't being compelled or anything, at least he was pretty sure he wasn't, but it still felt, paradoxically, like the only real thing in the room. The only thing that made this more than a delusion.

"I…where did this come from?"

"Space, obviously. Other than that, I have no clue. Melmac, Tatooine, take your pick."

He frowned. "You can't read the stuff on the top."

"I don't know, Clark, why don't you just pick up a book in German and tell me what it says. You have to be taught a language in order to read it and whatever the Hell that is, no one taught it to me."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." She said, wiping at her eyes. Then, she reached beside her and pulled up a small crystalline tablet from her side. "This is the only other thing my dad had of mine." She held onto it tightly but Clark could still make out the sigils etched on it. They matched the same type of writing on the ship. "I don't know what any of it means."

"I'm confused."

"_ You're _confused. I'm the one who's not even the same species as anyone else on this fucking planet."

"But I'm the adopted one."

"Clearly, you're not the only member of that club." She sighed and ran a hand through her bangs. "I should have been a better reporter. I think I blame me."

"To be fair I think it's a big leap from "I have superpowers" to "I'm an alien," especially considering how, um, well-"

"How human I look." She finished for him.

"Yeah, that."

"And to think I mocked _Contact _. The universe is having a fucking field day." She griped. "Anyway, I was five when I finally realized how odd it was that there were no baby pictures of me. I asked my parents about it and they swore that they been destroyed in a house fire and I bought it."

"You were five."

"Whatever. No baby pictures, weird powers-obviously genetic, everything is and I haven't been exposed to meteor rocks at least until I moved here last year, and I don't really look like my parents. My dad is more of an ash blond and my mom's a brunette and about six feet tall. I really am dense."

"And I keep telling you that alien was a little bit farther out in left field than even the Wall of Weird goes."

Chloe didn't reply but instead wrapped her arms tightly around her knees. She was so tiny against the wall, and again he had that weird cognitive dissonance where he couldn't believe how powerful she actually was.

"When did your parents get a hold of you? Where'd they even find you?"

When she spoke, her voice was so low he could barely hear her. "The meteor shower. I thought I'd never been to Smallville until last year, and I couldn't have been more wrong. I _was _the god damn meteor shower."

"Well, to be fair, there were a lot of rocks involved too."

"My parents were driving to visit my mom's folks in Granville and I crashed right in front of them. My mom…she wanted to turn me in to the government, but my dad wanted to keep me and he talked her into it. He didn't do a very good job."

"I'm sorry." He said as sincerely as he could. He knew that Chloe's mom had left her when she'd been a little bit older than five. He'd always assumed it had always been because of some super messy divorce. After knowing Chloe for a year, he couldn't imagine anyone not liking her.

Except Moira Sullivan, who apparently wasn't very fond of aliens.

"Not as much as I am. I've always been strong. I don't have any memories of before. If you're expecting some great travelogue of a galaxy far, far away you aren't going to get it from me."

"Who said I needed a travelogue?"

"Please, you're addicted to H.G. Wells and L. Ron Hubbard. Don't tell me you aren't salivating over all of this."

Granted, while part of him was (justifiably) freaked out, his nerdish leanings were going crazy. He spent most of his spare time star gazing and _not _using his telescope to spy on Lana no matter what Chloe claimed. Knowing a real live alien right here was one of the coolest and possibly most unnerving things that ever happened to him. "Okay, so I might be a little disappointed you know less about outer space than I do, but still the E.T. stuff is secondary. I'm just worried about you."

She nodded and rubbed the tears out of her eyes. "Like I said, I've always been strong. I must not even have been three years old and I had this necklace I loved. It was this stupid cheap thing I'd won out of vending machine but it was bright green and I loved the color, like shamrocks. I snapped it and all the beads rolled out onto the kitchen floor and under the refrigerator. It was automatic. I wanted the beads back so I lifted the whole thing. My mom walked in and screamed and I dropped it.

She was so freaked out. Her brother, my Uncle Sam, is a general in the army. He was a colonel at the time, but, still, a military connection, you know? She talked my dad into taking me to the base. He and my cousins were stationed right outside of Metropolis for years, and we got there, we were sitting outside his house waiting to go in and I was crying so hard I didn't think I'd ever stop, clutching my dad for all I was worth. I don't know how he did it but he managed to convince my mom to give me one more chance.

So they brought me back home and my mom stayed, but then I got another stupid _alien _power when I was five."

"The speed." Clark guessed, interrupting her story.

"The speed. I was at the park with my parents and we were playing tag and I ended up running too fast and getting lost in Metropolis for a whole day. They found me in Suicide Slums. I was so scared, and mom couldn't take it anymore. Not the surprises, not how weird I was, so she left. She left me because I'm a monster."

Finally, Clark snapped out of his funk and made his way to her side, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding her as she cried. "That's just stupid. Moira was an idiot, and your dad was so right to stick with you."

She sniffled and then pushed against him. He tried to hold onto her, but she was too strong for him. One strong shove and Clark found himself falling back on his ass in front of her. "My dad's the stupid one. I ruin everything I touch."

Clark snorted. "I doubt that."

She shook her head. "You didn't see how many dishes and toys and pieces of furniture I broke over the years."

"Well you were getting used to your strength. I'm sure it took some time." He gave a wry half smile. "I can't even imagine what it would have been like to have that kind of strength on the farm. I mean, it would have made hay baling easier, but I'd hate to have to learn to ride like that."

"Kick out a rib or something."

"Not a pretty mental picture."

"Not really." She said, staring down at her hands. "Do you remember when I told you that I had one other power?"

"Yeah, I'd been wondering about that one."

She gave him a pained smile and then turned to look at the work bench. There was still one unlit candle on the table. "Watch this."

"Okay."

She squinted at the candle and it burst into flames. When she turned back to look at him, he could see the russet hue fading from her eyes. "Surprise."

"That's how the lights turned on down here. I was wondering about that." He said, this time he could feel his heart beating faster. The strength was intimidating. He wasn't going to lie about that. There was that what if in the back of his brain that reminded him snidely that if she could rip through steel as if it were tinfoil, then she could mangle a human. That same traitorous voice was trying to gauge how high a temperature her eyes could blast.

"Scared yet?"

His voice wavered when he spoke, despite his best efforts. "N…no."

Her smile faltered and she stared back down at her palms. "That's the _almost _part of my incognito lifestyle. It started back towards the end of seventh grade. We were in gym class and I, um, got distracted," She blushed a little then and Clark wondered what exactly "being distracted" entailed. "All of a sudden my eyes started burning and I set the whole gym on fire. I didn't mean to. I'd never do anything like that on purpose. Hell, I didn't even know I could do it."

"Jesus."

"Yeah. No one could prove I'd done it and no one saw anything, at least I don't think so, or I'd be lying on a lab table right now." Clark shivered at the image of his best friend strapped down helpless like that. "Still, it all looked suspicious. So my dad decided we needed to move, to go somewhere where no one even guessed that I was different. I got us exiled here."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. Lex did talk to my dad yesterday and started trying to pry information out of him. It rattled him and we got into an argument about me showing off my powers when I shouldn't have, not that he wanted Lex or you to die, but he's scared. A lot of stuff got said and he finally showed me what he'd been hiding the last twelve years. Surprise, right?"

He could see the tears welling up in her eyes and he reached out to squeeze her shoulder, but stopped himself short of actually touching her. In the back of his mind he kept seeing the shredded Porsche and the flames pouring from her eyes.

She was Chloe, his best friend since the first day of eighth grade.

She was his lady editor and partner in crime.

She was the girl who took the full-on impact of a Porsche for him, even when she didn't know she was invulnerable.

And yet there was something else there, something alien and frightening.

Chloe noticed his hesitation and, faster than his eyes could follow, she was already back on her feet. "I see how it is."

"See how what is?"

"You _are _afraid of me."

"Can you blame me for being a little nervous? You can burn things to a cinder just by looking at them. It makes a guy a little jumpy. Just give me a second to deal with all of this."

She shook her head. "I was an idiot. I shouldn't have showed you anything. I wasn't thinking. I'm still in shock and upset and everything else and I broke the cardinal rule again."  
>"Chlo, it's not like that." He said, reaching out to her and frustrated when she blurred around him and to the foot of the stairs.<p>

She stood there on the second step up and it put her at eye level with him. Sticking her chin out defiantly, she did that thing where her eyes grew hot. He could see the heat rippling in front of her, but she apparently had enough control over the ability now that even though her eyes were flaring bright red, he couldn't feel the heat at all.

"Look at me."

"I am." He defended.

"This," she said, gesturing to her eyes, "is me. Either you can deal with me or you can't."

He looked back at her familiar face, expecting to see the mischievous green eyes that greeted him every morning in homeroom. There was something hellish in their place. Discomforted, he looked away.

He'd lost this game of chicken with her and he knew it.

"I guess that answers that question." She said bitterly.

He looked back up at her, "Chlo, wait. I can do better. I just need some time."

"Time's up." She said, turning toward the top of the stairs. "You can show yourself out." She added, before blurring away.


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

"I'd like to know what you were thinking, son, I really would." His dad said. (Clark had decided his dad's face hadn't quite reached that shade of deep purple that indicated he was truly yelling, despite the raised volume of his voice. Thus, still talking.)

Clark sighed and put his elbows on the old oak table in the Kent kitchen. "I said I was sorry."

"You're sorry? You hear that, Martha, he says he's sorry." His dad said turning toward his mother.

Clark dared to look up at his mother. Although his father was the one prone to yelling, it was his mother who made him nervous. She was rarely angry, but on those few occasions when she was…well, she had a talent for coming up with the worst punishment. There was this one time in sixth grade where he'd fallen asleep trying to stuffy for an English test and he'd gone in the next day totally unprepared. He'd tried leaning over Paul Chan's paper and got caught by the teacher instead. It had been this one stupid moment of desperation, but he'd paid for it. His mom had signed him up to volunteer for the next three months at the Smallville retirement center, after explaining to the nursing staff that he loved mucking out stalls on the farm.

He'd never seen so many bedpans in his sorry life.

Needless to say, he'd never even thought of cheating on anything ever again.

His mother was leaning slightly against the island in the kitchen, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pursed in a sure sign of mounting frustration. When she spoke, her voice was quiet yet firm. "I heard, Jonathon. What I can't understand, Clark, is why you felt the need to leave campus without permission and miss three classes. It's the first week of high school and already we have Principal Kwan calling our house. That's not like you at all."

He paused, deciding how much of the truth he was going to disclose to his parents. Telling them Chloe was ill and he'd been worried seemed like a fair excuse, although it did run the risk of follow up questions. Informing them that he'd rushed over to her house and found her in the middle of a nervous breakdown because she'd just discovered she was a space alien not only violated the trust she'd put in him but also made him sound crazy enough for an evaluation over at Belle Reve.

He decided on option A. "Chloe was sick and I wanted to visit her."

That did not appease his father. His face did cross that vaunted threshold from ruddy to bright purple as he yelled back, "And you couldn't have waited until 3 P.M. to do that? There are rules that you have to follow, son, and they include going to school at the normal hours just like all the other students."

"I was worried." Clark replied simply, sticking as closely to the truth as he could. He'd heard somewhere-possibly and ironically enough from Chloe-that the key to a good lie was ensuring that it deviated as little as possible from the truth.

His dad took in a deep breath and Clark could feel a rant coming on, probably extra heavy on the platitudes. He braced himself. But it was his mother who spoke next, surprising both Kent men. "Chloe's never been sick before, has she?"

Clark forced himself to keep a neutral (if slightly sullen) expression on his face. "No, she hasn't."

His mother nodded. "How sick was she?"

This was one of those delicate responses again. Chloe was physically speaking perfectly healthy. In fact, considering her unique heritage, it seemed very likely that she was never going to be sick, at least not because of any Earth-based bacteria and diseases and wasn't it ironic that H.G. Wells had it totally wrong. And, terrible alien secret or not, Chloe was still Chloe. She might be upset and devastated today (who wouldn't be?), but she loved The Torch. It was her baby, and tomorrow was a huge reporting day, even if Homecoming stories weren't her favorite thing to write, they would be popular articles for the whole school year. She'd be by that football field, taking notes like the reporter she'd always been. Thus, the correct answer was…"She's not so bad. It's one of those 24 hour flu things, you know? Upset stomach, horrible cramps, but she should be better for Homecoming." Clark said, taking in a deep breath. "Look, I know I did it wrong and I know I have to be punished, but I'm not sorry that I went to see Chloe. She needed me."

Even if he had managed to screw everything up and make her run away at hyperspeeds.

But his parents didn't need to know that part.

"I understand that you were worried about her, sweetheart, and rest assured your father and I will come up with a punishment that makes the great Retirement Home Sentence of '98 seem like a picnic."

"I sort of saw that coming."

"You will be taking over all the produce deliveries from now on, for starters, and you'll be the one up at five every Saturday to load the truck-by yourself-for the Farmer's Market. And that's for starters. Your father and I will talk about what else we can add to that verdict later when everyone's tempers have calmed down." She added, casting a significant glance at his dad.

Clark looked back at his dad and was relieved to see that his coloring was mostly normal. However, he was frowning deeply. His father was never one to let his mom have the last word. Shaking his head, he said, "I don't understand what's gotten into you lately, son."

"What do you mean?"

"You put up this fight, this constant badgering, to be on the football team even when your mother and I say no. You insist on keeping that bribe that Luthor, Jr. gave us—"  
>"It wasn't a bribe!" Clark defended.<p>

"He was driving recklessly, speeding, and he could have hit you both. He was probably just giving away his flashy gifts to make sure Gabe Sullivan and I don't sue him. Bill Ross may not be as skilled as some of those fancy Metropolis corporate sharks." If his dad noticed his mom fidgeting with the creamer at the thinly veiled allusion to his grandfather, it sure as Hell didn't stop the rest of his rant. "But he'd be happy to sue the Luthors pro-bono."  
>"Dad, it wasn't like that." Clark finished and he had no idea why he was defending Lex at all. While it was unfair that he was getting blamed for someone else not chaining down their barbed wire, it didn't mean Lex was a saint. The way he'd been eying Chloe at the crash site and the mansion made Clark nervous. Lex might not be the as reckless a driver as his dad thought or as evil as his father, but he could be dangerous.<p>

"Skid marks don't lie, son. I just don't understand why you have to disagree with us on everything lately. You've never skipped school before."

"And I've never been so worried about my best friend before either. The accident was really traumatizing for her and she's sick and I just wanted to help. Yeah, it was wrong, but I'd do it again." In fact, he wished he could d it again, if only to get everything right, to show to Chloe that he was ready to keep her secret, even if she were from Pluto or wherever.

That, apparently, was not the thing to say to his dad. "Is this going to be the pattern from now on? Are you going to rebel against everything we say?"

"Not everything, but I don't have to agree with everything you say, either. Isn't that part of growing up? Making my own decisions."

"Which can lead to mistakes and repercussions," His mom added. "I understand that you've done something wrong and are willing to take the punishment and I respect that."

His father was not so conciliatory. "If you'd just listen to us in the first place, none of this would have happened. Is this all because you're upset about playing football? Because it's normal to be disappointed, son, but it's far from that to start skipping school and accepting gifts from practically the spawn of Satan."

And the conversation had been going so well. Clark had been willing to be contrite because, honestly, big alien secret or not, evil electro-boy running around or not, he'd done something wrong by skipping school. He got that. But he was sick of his parents, especially his dad, being so god damned over protective. He stood up then, pushing his chair into the table with so much force that its clanking against the oak table rung out through the whole first floor.

He spun around to face his father, "Normal? Let's talk about normal. Every other kid I know gets to play sports-football, basketball, baseball. They get to do something fun like that. They don't have to be the ones to go to the library during P.E. and get labeled the class nerd. They don't have to be the one to sit on the sidelines and watch everyone enjoy themselves _all the time _. Other kids with asthma work around it and get to play. They don't have a ton of parents' and doctors' notes making sure they remain the class freak forever."

"Clark-" His mom cautioned.  
>"No, mom, not today. I'm sick of always being the dutiful son. I get it. You guys wanted a kid really badly and you were so happy to have me and that's great. And I know I was really sick a lot when I was a little kid and there were lots of hospital visits and stuff, but I'm fifteen. You can't just protect me forever, especially when there's nothing that wrong with me." He threw up his hands. "You know what. Forget it. You two can figure out the rest of my punishment for wanting to actually have a life. I'm going to the loft." He said, before storming out of the room.<p>

He didn't end up in the loft like he thought he would. He did go out there, but it was too close to the house and he didn't need his parents coming up there for part two of the lecture. Granted, it was a bit melodramatic for him to run off, and after today's spectacular failure with Chloe, he should know how much it hurt to be the one on the other end of it all, but he didn't care. He was just so tired of everything. It had been a long three days and he couldn't sit there anymore and pretend to agree with everything his parents wanted for him.

He just couldn't.

So he'd just started wandering the property. The Kent farm was fairly large. It wasn't as big as it had been when he'd been a little kid. They'd gone through some hard financial times and his father had been forced to sell off the back forty in order to afford paying the other farmhands who helped out with the land. Money was still tight and most of Clark's clothes came third hand from the Goodwill. Even at that, it hadn't been enough to get them through the fiasco of three summers ago when there'd been a massive drought and they'd lost half their crops. His mom had begged Grandpa Clark for a loan then (which miracle of miracles he'd given) and had started working as the manager of The Beanery to make ends meet.

Still, no matter how hard pressed they'd been over the years, the farm was still theirs and it was still, despite the lost of the other forty acres, expansive. It took a while to wander off the property. It was dark by the time Clark crossed over the half-rotted fence separating the Kent and the Potter property. Aside from stepping over the fallen crossbeams, Clark knew he'd come to the Potter's land because of the ancient family plot he found himself in.

It was creepy to say the least.

He wandered amongst the collection of tombstones, until he stood facing a large stone angel. Her rounded cheeks and wide-eyes reminded him of Chloe and, in turn, of the royal mess he'd made in the last eight hours.

"Who's there?" A voice called out to him, shattering his moment of mea culpa.

He turned and felt his heart skip a beat, as it always did, when he came face to face with Lana. "It's just me."  
>"Clark?" She asked, her face scrunched up in confusion, "What are you doing here?"<p>

"I was out for a walk."

"Pretty far out to be walking." She replied, her tone subdued.

Clark paused before replying so he could take in the scene. Off to the far end of the cemetery, he saw her horse with its reins wrapped around a low-lying tree branch. Lana was kneeling before the two least crumbled tombstones. Her right hand was by her chest and her fingers were playing nervously with the green stone around her neck. She was beautiful, of course; she always was. But there was something tragic in it. Like those legends of the grey ladies that stalked the seashores and rivers where there true loves drowned, those urban myths he'd read about in Chloe's collection. Her complexion was paler than it usually was and her luminous eyes were dulled by the encroaching fog.

This was the side of Lana she never let anyone else see-the broken little girl still waiting for her parents to come home. Sure, she talked about them and the shower even now, but she didn't mourn in public. Didn't drag a collection of roses around with her or have the sallow cheeks or deadened expression. Lana, at school, was the stereotypical cheerleader: popular, pretty, and slightly vapid.

This was not the girl he'd placed on a pedestal twelve years ago, and somehow it made him nervous to approach her than if she were surrounded by her adoring throngs at school. He couldn't explain it. It was as if, despite the morbid and surreal setting, this meeting was more real than anything he'd ever experienced with her in the shallow bubble of Smallville Junior and Senior High.

"Yeah," He agreed, stepping across the field and coming to stand next to her. He wasn't surprised to find the two markers facing him belonged to Lewis and Laura Lang.

"Then why are you really here?"

"I could say that I was very excited about our date and just had to find you."

She gave a wry half-smile. "You could say that, but most people start with my house or with Nell's flower shop. They don't come here."

"Not even Whitney?"

She reeled back then almost as if he'd slapped her. He had the feeling he'd somehow managed to insult her. Great, first Chloe and now Lana. If he kept up this stellar streak, there wouldn't be a girl left who'd talk to him. "Whitney doesn't know I still come out here to see my parents. It'd be too morbid for him, you know?"

"I can see that." He conceded. Then, kneeling down but still leaving plenty of space between them, he added, "I still think about my birth parents sometimes."

"Really?"

"How could I not?"

"Do you remember them?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't really remember much until I came to Smallville. It doesn't stop me from wondering about what they were like or why they gave me up." He sighed and pushed his hands into the pockets of his sheep skin jacket. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I think you're kind of lucky."

She narrowed her eyes at him in a way that made him marvel at his lack of luck with women. "How do you figure that?"

"You remember yours, have a few good memories. You _know _they loved you. I think I just got abandoned. It doesn't matter much now—"

"Liar."

"Okay, so it bugs me a lot if I let myself think about it, which I try not to, but I love my mom and dad. They chose me. I mean, Nell did the same with you. It must have been really hard to just suddenly have a three-year-old to take care of."

Lana shook her head. "I know Nell had to do a lot for me, but I don't always feel like we're a real family. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to live with her."

He swallowed but said nothing for a minute. He'd always assumed things were good between Nell and Lana. Sometimes he'd come into the shop with his mom (she liked to buy fresh-cut tulips) on a Saturday and find her working there or helping out. He'd seen the two of them _accidentally _with his telescope on occasion. He'd always assumed they were close. Granted, Nell could be an acquired taste and she was always rude to his mom, but she was family, blood family, and she'd kept Lana out of foster care. What few memories he did have before becoming a Kent were of being moved from foster home to foster home. It had been far from fun.

Lana didn't know how lucky she was it hadn't happened to her.

It struck him as ungrateful and made him feel, surprisingly, just a little sorry for Nell. She'd given up her whole life to care for her niece and apparently wasn't even getting a "thank you" for it.

But calling her on the lack of gratitude in her sentiments would just lead to a shouting match, he was sure of it, and he'd already fulfilled his freak out quotient with Chloe. So instead, he said, "I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "It's okay. I still have my parents to talk to."

Now that was just a lot bit creepy. "I see."

"Yeah, I know it's weird but sometimes I come out here to talk to them and to pretend that they're still around. I miss them a lot."

That, at least, he could understand. "I see."

"Still, none of that explains what you're doing out here."

He hesitated, just like with his parents, he was unsure of how to proceed without giving too much away about Chloe. They might be fighting now, but that certainly didn't mean he was going to out her to the rest of the world if he could avoid it. However, with the way Lex interrogated him, which reminded Clark uncomfortably of his grandfather in lawyer-mode, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to let something important slip around him. Lana, though, was not nearly as cunning. He settled, again, on the abridged version of the truth.

"My parents and I had a fight."

Lana stifled an eye roll. She didn't seem quite as interested in his responses now that they weren't about her. "What about?" She asked politely.

"A lot of stuff actually."

"Homecoming?" She asked, genuine worry creeping into her tone.

"Oh no, nothing about that." He assured her. "It was a lot of other things. We've sort of had this ongoing debate about me playing football."

She narrowed her eyes. "I thought you had asthma."

He rolled his eyes. "Everyone says that." He sighed. "Honestly, I don't care that much about football and I don't love the idea of running around in summer heat, either, but I do want to be recognized, you know? I'd like to be that guy, like Whitney is." The he went and said something way too revealing. "Girls seem to like that."

"We do." Lana admitted, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Quarterback is a lot more interesting than guy who types up the lunch menus."

Okay, so that stung. Still, he was trying really hard not to get into a fight with anyone else today, let alone his dream girl. "It's a boring job but somebody's got to do it." He defended.

"So this mope is all about football?"

"Not so much. It's a lot of things, like I said. My parents aren't thrilled that Lex wants to be my friend."

Lana did a complete one-eighty then. No longer bored, she leaned forward, her gaze intense. "Lex wants to be your friend."

"It's not as great as it sounds," he clarified, recalling the way the other man had been staring at Chloe. In fact, he wasn't the best reader of social cues, but he would bet next week's allowance that Lex was only being nice to him to get to her. "Besides, he gave me this stupid truck. I mean, it wasn't stupid. It was a really sweet ride and everything, but my dad wouldn't let me keep anything from a Luthor."

He swear he heard Lana swear underneath her breath, but then again he _could _have imagined that. "Still, if Lex wants to hang out that has to be amazing. Nell's always enjoyed Lionel's company."

Clark stifled back a snide "I bet." He wasn't going to believe what they said down at the Smallville beauty shop the few times he'd stepped in there to pick his mom up no matter how tempted he was. "Well, it just made my dad really mad at me. He sort of has it against wealthy people in general-you should see him and my granddad go at it, and he hates Lionel Luthor more than anything. Hence, tons of shouting."

Lana shook her head. "Still seems silly not to take advantage of an opportunity like that. How many billionaires are you going to get to know in your lifetime anyway? It's not like Oliver Queen and Bruce Wayne are going to be breaking down your door any time soon."

Well that was certainly an argument he hadn't thought of making to his dad. "Yeah, well, I don't think I'll be hanging out a lot with Lex because of how much he makes me dad see red."

Lana sighed and glanced non-too-subtly down at her watch. "So that's all that has you down?"

When she put it that way, it made him feel like all his problems didn't matter. The things that had been bugging him for years (in football's case) were apparently inconsequential to her and it made him almost feel guilty for blundering into the cemetery to begin with. "There is one more thing."

"Really?"  
>"Chloe and I had a major blow out this morning."<p>

"She wasn't in school."

"I cut to go see her. She's sick today and Pete and I were worried. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Considering the two weeks of detention Kwan gave me, I think it might have been a mistake. If things had gone better, I'd totally have said it was worth it."

Lana's lips puckered as if she'd just tasted one of those crab apples that grew on the trees that lined the boundary between their farms. "Chloe, huh?"

"Yeah, she's been having a, um, hard time since the accident. I think it freaked her out a lot to watch it." And to be a part of it, of course, but he couldn't say that out loud.

"Chloe seemed fine the next day when she was insulting the cheerleading squad and she was definitely well enough to write a scathing editorial about the team which used such words as 'antiquated' and 'sexist.'"

"Chloe gets a little carried away when she goes into editor mode. It's nothing personal against you." Although it most certainly was a lot against Lana Lang, and he still hadn't figured out why she cared about Lana one way or the other. "She just isn't fond of cheerleading." And now it made buckets of sense why she'd be so bitter about something so stereotypically normal. He had days when he felt the same way about football. In his case, football was potentially dangerous for him. In Chloe's case, if she got too worked up at cheerleading practice, she could launch a girl into the stratosphere and that was just for starters.

"I see." Lana said, the bitter expression still contorting her normally pretty features. "I still don't see why you worry about her so much."

"She's my best friend besides Pete and she's going through a tough time right now." That was the understatement of the century right there. He was pretty sure that no one else had ever gone through an epic freak after realizing that they were possibly the only member of their species abandoned on an alien planet. Oh and bonus, her best friend and sworn secret keeper had temporarily (if she'd stuck around for five god damn minutes he could have explained that to her) been unnerved by the reveal of her non-human status.

"Uh-huh. Lack of athletic abilities aside, Clark, I think you could do better. Pete's an okay guy, even Whitney likes him, but Chloe. She's just too weird and too in-your-face. You'd do better to make other friends." She leaned over and brushed her fingers over the front of his shirt. "Better friends."

"Like you?"  
>"Among others."<p>

And Clark just knew that others meant Lex.

"Still, it was my fault. I should have supported her and I totally blew it. She's been there for me all year and I couldn't return the favor. I feel like such a jerk."

Lana did roll her eyes this time. "And Chloe's judgmental and short-tempered. I'm sure she's the one who over-reacted. Now, if you want to stay, let's at least talk about something fun like Homecoming."


	6. Chapter 6

**6**

"Mind if I sit here?"

Clark looked up from his seat in the bleachers to find a now familiar face staring back at him. Lex Luthor, impeccably dressed in a light weight blue sweater that probably cost more than his mom made in a week and black slack, was standing in front of him waiting for permission to sit down.

Well, it wasn't like he could refuse a billionaire. "Uh, sure Lex, no problem."

Lex nodded and sat down on Clark's left. They were sitting about three rows back from the field. His parents were sitting with the Rosses in the parents' section of the stands. Clark was ridiculously lucky to be allowed to participate in the Homecoming extravaganza and he knew it. His mom had been his savior in that. She knew how desperately he'd been waiting for a date with Lana since pre-school, and she'd convinced his dad to at least let him go to the Homecoming game to watch her cheer and to the dance with her. Of course, starting tomorrow, he was grounded for a month and wouldn't be allowed to do anything but go to school, do deliveries and work on the farm. He was even banned from Torch duties until further notice, but considering how angry Chloe was with him, that was probably for the best. He couldn't see her being thrilled to work with him again for the next ever.

Speaking of Chloe, he'd tried going over to her house early to offer his minion services in helping her cover the girls' soccer game (played on the adjoining field at the same time as the football game) and found a grumpy Gabe Sullivan glaring at him when he knocked on the door. Clark was betting that her dad still didn't know, but that didn't mean he hadn't noticed that Chloe was upset and that Clark Kent wasn't the cause of it. He'd also tried calling her cell and IMing her all day yesterday but found, much to his dismay, that he was being screened.

He was going to have to think up some better groveling to win her back. He was half tempted to bring her some Reese's Pieces in addition to some gourmet coffee, but he was pretty sure she'd just flambé him for it.

"So, Clark," Lex said, interrupting his faults. "I have a question."

Clark shifted nervously. He'd had zero sleep and was not in the mood to play games this morning. "What?"

"You're a good-sized guy. Tall, fairly big, obviously strong with all farm chores you probably have to do."

"How did you know that?"

"Small town. Amazing what you learn if you ask around. I know that your family can't afford that many hands so you and your dad do the bulk of the work. You know, if you ever need to assure financial stability-"

"Don't even bother to offer. You know my dad. He'd never go for it and it would just lead to more uncomfortable silences and Kent family blowouts."

"I'm sorry about that."

He shrugged. "Don't be. It hasn't just been about you. There's a lot of stuff that's been building for a long time. Don't let the Norman Rockwell exterior fool you. Smallville has its share of problems too."

He nodded and ran a hand over his scalp. "I remember."

"Huh?"

"I was here in 1989, smack in the middle of the shower."

"Oh."

"It's why I've been bald for over a decade. I thought almost everyone knew that." He shrugged. "Although I can't begrudge the shower for everything, I might have lost my hair, which was both curly and flame red by the way, not exactly the most dignified look for a young mogul, but I haven't been sick a day since. I used to have horrible asthma and after the shower, not a thing. It allowed me to take up fencing and a host of other things. So I've come to view it as a trade-off of sorts."

Clark wondered if Lex realized how much he'd revealed with that statement. Of course, aside from him, Chloe, and Pete, no one in town believed that the meteor shower had the ability to mutate people. Apparently Lex now had a heightened immune system from all the radiation. It was a hell of a lot better than being able to melt himself or having extra limbs, or so Clark thought. Struggling for the correct response that didn't come off as condescending or that didn't reveal too much, he answered, "I still have asthma. My parents didn't adopt me until a few month after the shower so I missed out on space-aged cures for that problem."

"You have nice hair." Lex added noncommittally. "Trust me, Michael Jordan aside, being bald isn't everything it's cracked up to be."

Clark chuckled a little at that. "Still, I'd trade almost anything to get rid of it. I hate not being able to do sports."

"I thought you could work around it. I still had to do gym at Excelsior. In fact, my father demanded athletic excellence from me at school always. Whether I delivered or not, is another story. I still had to try."

"My parents don't feel the same way. They're overprotective of me."

He nodded. "I see. Clark, this may be a bit presumptuous of me, but if you ever wanted to come over and try some small scale athletics with some supervision, you could. I'd love to have a fencing partner who doesn't kick my ass on a regular basis as Heikia does. Besides, I can also show you some of the more homeopathic remedies my mother came up with for me. Some actually work, although I still swore by my inhaler."

"Uh, thanks, Lex. I appreciate the offer." Clark said carefully, still reminding himself that last name or not, he still couldn't trust Lex, not after the way he'd eyed Chloe. Still, he didn't have that many friends and if Chloe was going to continue (perhaps justifiably) hating him and Pete was going to be in football practice all afternoon, he couldn't afford to chase potential friends away. Besides, Lex's place was on the afternoon delivery route so he had a legit reason to go there every day.

"So, Clark, I noticed that you weren't out with our avid reporter, snapping photos." He said, gesturing to the sidelines where Chloe was busy clicking away with her digital camera.

"She and I had a fight." He said, deciding that was a safe statement. After all that was a perfectly normal and human thing for two friends to do.

"I see." Lex considered. "What about?"

_Well, gee. She's actually a space alien and I had a moment of hesitation where I couldn't stop from imagining her melting off my face with her fearsome extraterrestrial powers. You know, the usual, _Clark thought snidely.

In reality, he replied, "A lot of things." And then he went with a truth he hadn't even known he'd realized. "I think she's mad because Lana asked me to Homecoming."

"Lana?" Lex asked and Clark was surprised to find that Lex actually cared about his teenage drama. There was the possibility that the mogul-in-training was an Academy Award-winning caliber of actor, but the sincerity in his tone seemed too real to be faked. It was an odd contrast with Lana, who, although she'd known him for over a decade, couldn't muster the effort to care much about anything that didn't directly impact her.  
>"Lana Lang." He answered, pointing to where she was leading the girls in another cheer. It was something that involved high kicks and, despite his mood, it elicited happy thoughts from him.<p>

"She looks familiar." Lex mused.

"Her aunt, Nell Potter, sold a lot of land to your dad about twelve years back."

"She's Nell's niece?" Lex asked, and Clark swore he could see the other man's ears turn a slight shade of pink.

"Yeah. I thought Nell knew your dad pretty well."

"That she does," Lex said in a tone of disgust that assured Clark that the small town gossip was this time at least Gospel truth. "I met Lana just once. She caught me in a compromising position to say the least, but Nell will still occasionally come by to _see _my father."

"Oh."

"Don't become all bashful now, Clark. My father has had many women visit him over the years. He is a Luthor, after all, and we're nothing if not virile." There was a bitterness in his tone that surprised Clark. Not because it was an odd reaction for the circumstances but because Clark didn't expect Lex to be so open with someone he hardly knew. Maybe Lex didn't care about the judgments of a small town kids or maybe the honesty was because he did.

"Okay."

"So Chloe's jealous because of Lana?"

"Maybe. It's so weird. I didn't even realize how she felt about me until I said it out loud to you and then all of a sudden it was so obvious."

"Sometimes epiphanies are like that. I suppose that's why therapists and life coaches can charge what they do."

"I love Lana, and Chloe…well she's just my best buddy."

Lex tilted his head at Clark. "I've seen you two together, you know. Chloe's right about one thing. You two do seem to share a brain."

"Hey!"

"Just an observation. I've seen many, many married couples-I suppose I should add the disclaimer about Metropolitan power couples who only stayed legally married for the tax break at this point-but nevertheless I've seen many couples who haven't cultivated the simpatico relationship you two have."

"Best friends."

"If you say so." Lex conceded. "Can I ask you a speculative question, Clark?"

"Sure."

"Why do you love Lana?"

"She's pretty." Clark said as if that should be the most obvious answer in the world.

Lex quirked his head even further. "Well, yes, I suppose that's true. I don't think about 14 year olds that way, but Nell has a certain charm to her and I assume her niece will favor her as she gets older. But why else do you like her besides the fact that she conforms to the Madison Avenue fairy tale cum marketing ploy of traditional beauty?"

"Um," Clark said, floundering for a moment. "She's popular."

"So, I would assume, is the starting quarterback. Forman, right? You don't want to date him, do you?"

"Well no, of course not."

"So what is it about Lana that you really love beyond the superficial?"

Clark thought back to how snide and self-absorbed she'd been in the cemetery, how much she'd apparently loathed Nell. Personality wise, there didn't seem to be a lot to even like, let alone love there. "I don't know."

"I suspected as much. I don't want to believe that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree because I have a pet theory that my father is a functional sociopath, but I've gotten to know Nell Potter over the years, and she is not the type of woman I'd want to spend five minutes alone with, much less the rest of my life."

"Lana's not her aunt."

"Nor am I my father, but if you can't name one winning personality trait after careful thought, then maybe, in this case, nature _nurture _have conspired against our fair Miss Lang."

"Maybe."

"Question number two then: What do you like about Chloe?"

Clark took a deep breath and conscientiously tried to avoid listing invulnerability and superspeed in his answer. "She's funny, smart, brave, and dedicated to the truth. She doesn't care that I'm really just a huge dork or that I'm never going to be like the other guys. She's supportive. She's saved my life."

"On the bridge then." Lex said, his eyes taking on that dangerous intense focus they often did when she came up in conversation.

"No, I mean when foils fly at my face. Poor sportsmanship, by the way," Clark added, forcing himself to smirk.

Lex did not smile back at him. "Yes, I've said it before. Chloe's extraordinary. So why aren't you down there with her?"

"Well, I might not have been supportive enough when we fought and she's pretty pissed. She's been blocking all my cell phone calls."

Lex sighed. "And this, Clark, is why they say chivalry is dead. You can't say sorry with a phone call. Go down there and apologize in person. It's the only way."

"I…I will." Clark stammered. "But after the game. She'd kill me if I distracted her from getting the perfect shot and quote."

"Fair enough." Lex agreed. "So, on the subject of our favorite Nelly Blye wannabe, I'd be interested still for any insights you have. Gabe still stays so closed-lipped."

"Lex, can we just watch the game?" Clark said, turning his attention back to the field and ignoring the glare the other man was giving him.

***  
>"Chloe! Wait up a second!" Clark called, hurrying behind her. She was walking through the far side of the senior parking lot, her camera swinging from around her neck. She'd stayed after to collect quotes from both the victorious soccer and football teams and he waited for her. As a result, they were one of the people remaining at the school and the only two people in the nearly deserted parking lot.<p>

"Forget it, Clark." She huffed, not even bothering to turn around.

"Chloe, please, just stop for five minutes to hear me out." He yelled back. "If you don't, I swear to god I'll tell Lex everything."

That did it. Clark didn't even have time to blink before she was standing right in front of him. Her glare so intense, he had to touch the fabric of his t-shirt just to assure himself it wasn't any hotter than normal. "You would do that wouldn't you? I mean, you're the science geek, right? You turn the _alien _" She hissed out that last word between them, "over to LuthorCorp and then get some of the partial credit for making first contact."

"Okay," He said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "Have you met _me _? I would never do that. Not for a billion dollars and my own Hawaiian island. Come on, Chloe. I've spent all this afternoon actually avoiding Lex's less-than-subtle probing about you. I promised to be your secret keeper before I knew everything by the way and I'm still doing that. Even if you won't talk to me, I'm not going to rush out and betray you."

Chloe sighed and blinked back what Clark hoped were tears. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that, did I? All I know is that I showed you everything about me and you freaked out?"

"Can you blame me? Even Elliot wasn't all rushing to bust out the geraniums when E.T. first showed up. You have to give me a little time to process everything."

"I gave you time."

"About thirty seconds. Come on, be honest, if it were me who was the visitor from another planet, wouldn't you have freaked out even a little?"

"Okay, so the powers might have thrown me, but the alien part, not so much. I'd know it would still be Clark Kent, Superdork, I'd be hanging out with."

"I resent that but since you're back to snarking at me, I'm going to take it as a good sign."

Chloe smiled just a little back at him. "Good point."

"Don't cut me out of your life anymore, Chloe, please. I mean it. I can't lie and say I know what you're going through because, honestly, I don't think anyone here has ever gone through it. But I do know what it's like to be adopted, to wonder why your parents just up and abandoned you. To wonder if why you weren't good enough to be allowed to stay. I can't imagine the rest of it, how unbelievably lonely you must be, but I'm here and it doesn't just have to be you and your dad."

She nodded. "I appreciate that."

"Good. Now, I'll admit the fact that you could flambé me anytime did make me nervous for like a millisecond, but I'm over that now. You're my Chloe and I'm not going to just let you shut me out."

"_ Your _Chloe, huh? I kind of like the sound of that."

"Look, I was talking to Lex about you but just the average teenage girl you and not the top secret stuff, and he actually had a lot of good points for a guy who's still on the possibly evil list."

She arched a speculative eyebrow. "He did?"

"Yeah, he did. Look, I promises Lana I'd take her to Homecoming and I'm the kind of guy who keeps his promises." Chloe rolled her eyes and stared at the nearest car like she was seriously considering kicking a hole in it, and with her strength she obviously could. Unfazed, he put his fingers under her chin and prodded her until she agreed to turn and face him. "Even if I don't want to this time. But after tonight, maybe more things get to change than just the cavalcade of your secrets."

"Do you have some?"

"Maybe I had some even I didn't know."

She laughed and for the first time in days it didn't sound bitter. "I know that feeling."

He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheeks. "Go home and get ready. Pete's been talking about this all week and I haven't seen him more excited, I mean, about the 'just friends' part. I'll see you tonight."

She blushed and nodded, a wide grin planted on her face. "See you soon." Then, after a cursory glance around the parking lot, she vanished.

Okay, so maybe the speed was mostly cool.

Clark chuckled to himself, beyond relieved that he apparently had not only managed to salvage their friendship but had maybe even changed it into a "something more," and started the five mile walk back to his farm. It would take a while but luckily he wouldn't need much preparation to get ready. He was already passing through the back alley by the gym when Whitney Fordman and two of his linebacker friends stepped out of his truck.

"Uh, hey Whitney," He said, his heart pounding. "What's up."

Whitney stalked across to him and stopped standing toe to toe with him. He was actually a few inches shorter than Clark, but he was heavier and had a lot more muscle and tons more practice beating the crap out of people. "What's going on with you and my girl, Kent?"

Clark's heart was now giving the average hummingbird a run for its money and he could already feel his chest constricting, the precious air refusing to enter his lungs. "What, ah, what do you mean?"  
>Wheeze in, wheeze out.<p>

"I mean," Whitney said, shoving him so hard that he fell to the ground and scraped his palms against the asphalt, "Why the Hell is she taking a loser like you to Homecoming."

God, his chest felt like he had an iron maiden around him. "She said…she said that you were, ah, broken up."

"Bullshit she said that." Whitney said, pulling him up by the lapels of his jacket.

Clark stumbled unsteadily on his feet. "Look, Whitney…I didn't know. If you'd rather go with her, take her."

Whitney frowned, apparently considering the offer, and just when Clark felt he'd actually escaped from the worst of it, slugged him in the solar plexus. "No way. She has her heart set on going with you since you've got the in to Luthor. I can't just show up on her doorstep if you're going to be there."

Clark, in the mean time, had fallen to his knees and was desperately trying to gather in ragged breaths. "So…sorry."

"No, you're not. You freshman loser." Whitney leaned down and Clark flinched, anticipating another punch. Instead, he was surprised when the other boy hooked a familiar green-gemmed necklace around his neck.

"Wh…what?" He asked, staring down at his neck.

"You like it so much? Enjoy it. It's the closest you are ever going to get to her." Then he pulled back and slugged Clark in the face. Thankfully nothing cracked, no nose broke or blood gushed from nostrils, although from the coppery taste in his mouth that he'd split his lip. His head hurt and his ears rang and the last thing he remembered before he passed out was Whitney and his friends throwing him into the back of his pick-up.

That and the simple chilling phrase: "Congratulations, you're this year's scarecrow."


	7. Chapter 7

**7**

Clark had been to Mass just once with Chloe. Her offer last spring had actually puzzled him at first because he'd never met anyone who was more of a born cynic than she was. Organized religion, especially one with as speckled a history as the Catholic church had, didn't seem very much like her cup of tea. But her mother had been very devout and Gabe still went every Sunday, come Hell or high water. So, she'd made the offer for him to come along. It, however, had been an offer that was not entirely religiously motivated. She'd been nursing this pet theory that the head priest was actually a zombie of some kind.

It hadn't panned out, but he had gone to Mass with her just the once.

And he'd decided never to go back.

It wasn't that the service was exceptionally different from the services at his own church. Despite his misconceptions, the church had done away with Latin Mass decades before. Of course, St. Patrick's in Metropolis still held service the old way, but in Smallville everything was in good old fashioned English. So it hadn't been the service that had wigged him.

Oh no, it had been the icons.

Crosses were a given in decorating any Christian church. However, Chloe's church put its own special extra mile of guilt into their crosses. Watching someone be crucified for an hour was disturbing and distracting. If Chloe'd been inclined to quiz him on the contents of the Mass, he couldn't have told her a thing about it.

He'd spent the hour staring at the placement of the nails through Christ's palms.

It looked like a miserable way to go-bleeding to death.

He hadn't realized that wasn't how crucifixion worked until he'd caught a Discovery channel special over Easter week. He'd been on vacation and TV had been awful so he'd watched part of it in lieu of yet another Claymation special starring a rabbit and too many brightly colored eggs.

Apparently the key to crucifixion, despite the fact that to support the body weight an individual had to be nailed through their wrists, was the position of the body. It dragged on the arms and pulled the diaphragm down making it impossible to breathe. Eventually, someone in that position suffocated to death.

It was a miserable way to die and apparently the Romans only saved it for those really special occasions.

He should feel honored then.

Clark wasn't sure how long he'd been up there. He just knew that he'd woken up strung up on the make shift scarecrow post, with his arms tied painfully behind his back, and stripped nearly naked, save for his boxers. That stupid cold spell was invading the night again and, though it had been a warm day, the night air was cold against his skin. Maybe he'd get lucky and freeze to death before he had to suffocate.

It only took several hours for someone to asphyxiate that way and that was presuming they were able to breathe normally when they started. Clark was not. He'd already been suffering from an asthma attack when Whitney and his accomplishes had trussed him up. Now, his chest was so tight that he could barely bring in any air at all. His head swam and he fought off the dizziness and the urge to pass out again. He was afraid that if he did, he'd never wake up. His muscles burned already from the strain of his weight and he was shivering violently.

And no one knew where he was.

Pete said his uncles and father had made a habit of guarding the scarecrow field, but no one had done that in over a decade and now he was going to die out there.

In retrospect he should have just listened to Chloe and said no when Lana propositioned him. She was pretty but even fucking Helen of Troy wasn't worth a slow and painful death.

Taking in another ragged gasp and spurned on by desperation, Clark called out, "Help me!"

His cry echoed across the expanse of the corn field and was drowned out by the roar of the sweeping wind. Exhausted even from that bit of effort, Clark lowered his head to his chest and closed his eyes. God, he was so cold. He'd never been that cold in his life, not during any of those stupid camp outs his dad had dragged him on yearly (in October of all months), and not even during long days spent playing outside in the sporadic Kansas blizzards with Pete.

Desperate, he tried to think of anything that would make the pain and the cold seem bearable. Out of instinct, his mind flashed on Lana, but that once standard fantasy thought did him no good. It just made him think of Whitney and what an idiot he'd been. And that of course, led to thoughts of the cross he was bearing. Instead, he turned his thoughts to the other people in his life. To Pete whom he'd known since they were in the sandbox (Abby Ross, incidentally had helped with the legal legwork required for his adoption). He thought guiltily of his parents whom he still hadn't apologized to. They were going to find him tomorrow and the last thing that had been between them was open hostility and awkward silences.

That thought hurt almost as much as the ropes biting into his wrists.

Finally, he thought about Chloe. His mind in true cliché fashion was playing out the last few days in full Technicolor detail, starting with the accident. He saw it all over again, relived the horror as Lex's car slammed into her and felt the joy of seeing her head pop back out of the river. There was the anger and bitterness and insecurity of her revelations, that awe and disquieting sensation of seeing an honest-to-god spaceship for the first time.

And then there was just her. Here, his retrospective blurred memories from the last few days with other, older ones. He remembered their first kiss up in his loft-his first kiss from anyone, actually, although he still had no idea if it had been hers-the day she'd shown him her first article ever for The Torch, lazy summer afternoons spent in the swimming hole or the abandoned fields near the foundry looking for the latest mutated stray dog or turtle.

He remembered her wide eyes and her even wider smile and how small and how fragile she looked no matter how deceiving that image actually was. There was Chloe B.C. (before the crash) and Chloe A.D. (after Gabe Sullivan's disclosure) and despite all she was and all he knew she could do, she was the same girl.

Until then, he didn't realize how much he'd been looking forward to tonight, to paying lip service to Lana, to honoring his promise, but to then being able to be with Chloe. To maybe sharing their first Homecoming together (as much as the guy code between him and Pete would allow, of course). He was going to die out here and the only thing he could think about was the fact that he should have kissed her-really, flat out, with the rising music kissed her-in the parking lot this afternoon. Now, he wasn't going to get the chance.

"Oh Chloe."

"Jesus, Clark."

Great and now he was hallucinating. Well, maybe shock was setting in and all this would actually be over. He took as deep a breath as he could, which still failed to squelch the burning in his lungs, and let his head lull to one side.

Something sharp dug into his calf. Groggily he raised his head a few inches and mumbled, "You're not real. Go away."

"The Hell I'm not real. Possibly fictional, I'll give you, but I am totally here ruining my Homecoming dress." Chloe answered, pinching him again. "Come on, Clark, you have got to stay awake for me here."

Clark opened his eyes and gaped down at her, disbelief clear on his face. "Chloe?"

"Yes, you doofus. Oh god, what did they do?" She said as she circled the cross. "Fuck! They couldn't have tied you on a low hanging cross. Oh no. It's not enough to have superpowers, apparently I need to reach a height requirement."

"Shouldn't…ah…I be the one complaining?"

"I do it better." She paused and when she spoke he could hear the hesitation in her voice. "Clark, I can't reach it and, while I could jump for it, I'd probably overshoot."

"So you can't get me down?"

"No, I…there's another way but you have to stay completely still, don't even breathe from the moment I say go."

If she wasn't going to rip the rope then how the Hell did she expect to get him down and, oh God. He remembered the way her eyes had shone in the basement, the effortless way the twin beams had displaced the heat in front of her. "Chlo, can't you just run for the paramedics?" He managed to gasp out.

"I can do this." He could practically see her brow furrowed in determination.

"Chlo…" He got out before his lungs seized up.

A small yet warm hand was resting on his calf. "Trust me."

He didn't really have a choice did he? He trusted her, really he did. She'd saved his life twice in as many days, hadn't she? But this was fire they were dealing with, and it had a tendency to spread. Fast. Praying to the god of idiot teenage boys that this would work, Clark waited for her to give it a shot.

"Okay, go!" She called out and he froze still as a statue.

He heard the ropes sizzle and snap around his arms and ankles, and he fell forward to the ground. Clark flailed and was about to slam into the ground when Chloe blurred and caught him.

Still struggling for breath, willing himself to calm down so his chest would finally untighten, he rolled off her. "Thanks, Chlo." When she didn't snark back at him, he frowned and turned back to look at her. Then, he gasped.

Chloe was writhing on the ground in front of him, her veins pulsing angrily against her skin, forming a black highway of boiling blood.

He leaned over and shook her. He'd never seen anything like this. "Chlo?" She screamed when he leaned too close to her, and he jumped back immediately. "Chloe, can you hear me?"

She rolled over to her side, threw up, and then clutched her stomach. "Back up."

"What?"

"Back up. When you were over me it was like with Lana, except worse. God, it feels like you actually burned my chest."

Clark glanced down to check over the uncovered expanse of her skin. In the darkness, he couldn't tell if any marks were there. Carefully, he stepped back several yards. The farther away he retreated, the more her veins receded into her skin and the less she writhed. Eventually, when about twenty feet separated them, Chloe was able to sit up and take in even breaths.

"Chlo?"

She ran her hands through her hair and stifled a sniffle. "I refuse to believe that I'm allergic to you."

"Heh, I'm not even wearing pink." Then, suddenly it all made sense to him. He reached down and looked at the necklace still around his throat. Lana's necklace. The one that rumor proclaimed was made from the meteor rock that had killed her parents. It was the one piece of jewelry she never took off, except, apparently, as a good luck charm for Whitney.

"Chloe," He said. "I'm going to try something. It might hurt for just a second, but I need you to bear with me and watch my neck."

"What the Hell and why are you going all Mr. Wizard on me now?"

"Just bear with me, would you? I really don't want to spend the rest of my life standing twenty feet from you."

"That would make working at The Torch difficult."

"And dating," he added, giving her a small smile. "Ready?"

"God, not really. You have no idea how much that hurts."

And after watching her veins pulsate like that, he never wanted to even get an inkling of that kind of pain. "I'm sorry." He said, taking several steps toward her, when he had closed the gap between them by about five feet, Chloe gripped her stomach again and shook her head.

"No closer, please."

He nodded. "Can you see my neck?"

"I can see a lot of things." She snarked and then she frowned. "Your neck is glowing. It's like a freaking Glo Stick.

"It's Lana's necklace. Whitney put it on me before he strung me up." Clark said, unclasping it from his neck and stepping back until Chloe was strong enough again to hop to her feet.

"Meteor rocks. God, it's so obvious. Everything weird in this town, including yours truly, is connected to the shower, and those rocks are littered everywhere. That explains why just randomly walking down a country road gives me stomach cramps."

"And why you avoid Lana."

"Oh there are non-meteor rock reasons for that."

"You must be feeling better if you can snark."

"I am, thank you." She said, eying the offending piece of jewelry. "You can drop that now and come over to me."

"If I drop it, I'll lose it and it'd crush Lana. It's not an obsessive crush thing. It's just that it would be cruel to leave it out here randomly where she could never find it. It's not like she knew Whitney was going to use it to make this year's scarecrow extra decorative."

Chloe pursed her lips but finally nodded her head in assent. "I see your point, but the only way back to Smallville is via me and I can't speed with my blood boiling. So drape it over the post and Whitney can come play bloodhound looking for it tomorrow."

"Oh right!" He said, slapping his head and draping the necklace gently around one of the cross poles where his arms had been. "So," he added, walking back from the cross. "How in the world did you know I was here? You couldn't hear me, could you?"

"Um no. I might have a laundry list of abilities but superhearing is not one of them. You and Lana never showed up, and Pete freaked out when we went ahead to the dance-we assumed you'd just gone ahead-and he found Whitney dancing with Lana. He told me about the scarecrow thing and we were both going to drive out here for you."

"I notice Pete's not here."

"I made up some excuse about needing something from The Torch office. I might have accidentally locked him in while he was rummaging through the file cabinet."

"Chloe!"

"We're going to let him out when we get back."

"You know, you really should tell him."

She sighed. "And it went so well the first time, no offense."

"None taken. I sort of blew it."

"You can say that again. Anyway, it was bad enough having people know I was fast and strong. Honestly, Clark, knowing where the only alien on the planet is located is dangerous. People would so torture a guy for that kind of information."

"Well now I feel loads better."

She rolled her eyes. "I tried to warn you to take the blue pill and just pretend it had never happened, Neo. However," She added, giving him a quick hug. "I'm getting really good at saving your ass."

"It's not a sorry one is it?"

She grinned and eyed his rear. "Not in the least. Can we speed now because I know you have to be cold and I actually wanted to go to my Homecoming dance? I don't have pig's blood on me but I can always whip up something fast with food dye and corn syrup."

"Huh?" Clark was pretty sure that on most days Chloe-logic did not resemble Earth-logic, and her way of talking really was its own language.

"Stephen King Allusions for a hundred, Alex." She quipped. "Let's go."

"Chlo, did Pete mention the other thing?"

"Other thing?"

"Yeah, Jeremy Creek?"

"No. We were busy freaking out about you. Who's Jeremy Creek?"

Clark quickly told her then all the details about Jeremy: his tenure as the 1989 scarecrow, his miraculous recovery and penchant for hurting jocks, even the extra bits about his condition that Paul had provided, including some very incriminating stories about how many respirators and crucial electronic devices had shorted out or flash fried around him.

He concluded with, "We even talked to your friend Chad at the M.E.'s office and he confirmed that the two guys brought in from the garage were electrocuted."

She took a deep breath and processed the information. "So we have a powerful and mutated psychopath running around looking to kill jocks. He's already taken out most of the '89 football team still living in Smallville. What's he going to do next?"

Clark eyed the cross he'd been hanging on and clenched his fist. If he were Jeremy, he knew exactly where he'd go. "The dance. He's going to show up there. All those footballers celebrating their big win and another successful freshman string up. He'll be there."

"You don't have to project, Clark."

"I'm not." Off her narrowed eyes, he conceded. "Okay, I am a little but _he'll be there _and he's going to hurt people."

"Alright then," She said holding out her arms awkwardly. "Let's go."

Clark was about to let her speed them away (and at the same time put up a valiant effort to ignore the fact he would be in the arms of the girl he liked while being practically naked), when a bright light assailed both their eyes. "Ouch."

Chloe blinked and recovered first. Turning toward the flashlight's beam, she called out, "Who's there?"

The flashlight lowered a little to reveal Lex Luthor standing in the middle of the corn field. "It's me. Remember the guy who owns the property?"

"Lex?" Both Clark and Chloe chorused.

The billionaire slunk easily over to them. "That would be I. Can I just tell you how much I hate corn fields?"

Chloe was not amused. Gruffly, she asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I was combing through the corn fields looking for this year's scarecrow. Looks like I found him." Lex said, pulling off his sweater and handing it over to Clark. "It's going to be a little tight, but it'll beat hypothermia so put it on."

He didn't have to be told twice. Slipping the sweater over his head and wincing when he heard the seams stretched over his broad shoulders, Clark asked, "How did you know about the scarecrow?"

"I saw it when I was out here for the meteor shower. I'd never seen someone so scared in my entire life. Besides, even if Bill Ross is still mad with my father for buying out his land, he doesn't want any poor kid to die out here either. He came by the mansion today and warned me that this would happen. I was out trolling the field and just followed the voices until I got here."

"Voices?" Clark asked, his own voice shaking as he replied.

"I didn't get much of the conversation," Lex conceded, an enigmatic smirk on his face. "But I heard something about Jeremy Creek and hurting this year's football team."

Chloe cast Clark a significant glance. "We so don't have time for this."

He got the meaning. She needed to be gone and she couldn't just speed off with Lex watching, _especially _not with Lex watching.

Unfortunately, that gave Clark an idea. Oh man, his mom was going to kill him and, conversely, his dad was going to be so jealous. "Ah, Lex?"

Lex stopped his now trademark examination of Chloe and turned to Clark. He didn't even manage to get out a reply before Clark hauled back and slugged him. Lex staggered for a split second and Clark, who'd grown up watching too many Die Hard movies with Pete and his brothers, actually believed the other man would pass out right there.

Well, movies lied.

Lex steadied himself, shook his head, and wiped the blood welling up on his bottom lip. "What the Hell was that for?"

"Um, it seemed like a good idea at the time?"

"It what? Who thanks the guy who helped save his life by hitting him and, by the way, I've been trained by Navy SEALs in self-defense. You punch like a girl, Clark."

Clark restrained himself from shaking out his now throbbing hand. No one had ever told him how much punching someone would hurt him. That did it. Action movies now were both untruthful and stupid. He was swearing by the classics from now on. "Um, sorry? It was my first punch."

"Obviously." Lex drawled. "Chloe, can you explain to me what's gotten into your friend?" He said turning back to the now empty patch of field. Chloe'd seen her opportunity and taken it, speeding away the second Clark's fist had connected with Lex's jaw. It looked bad, Clark knew. But it was a lot better for Chloe to just be mysteriously gone than for Lex to actually have watched her blur away.

There were better options, surely, but those would have cost time and lives.

Lex focused on Clark and narrowed his eyes. "Where did she go?"

He sighed in return. He was tired and cold and sore all over and he did not have time to deal with Lex's (justified in this case) curiosity and paranoia. "Look, I could spend the next five minutes floundering for an explanation or you could, just this once in probably your entire life, stop asking questions and help me."

Lex tilted his head at Clark and paused before saying, "What do you need me to do?"  
>"Jeremy Creek, you might remember him because he was the 1989 scarecrow, is planning to pull a Carrie at Homecoming. We need to get there now and you need to call the police and get them over there." Not that they'd be able to do anything but get electrocuted, but maybe the school could be evacuated and everyone moved to safety. Besides, it was Smallville and the Luthors employed half the town. If Lex ordered something done, it would get done.<p>

"We're not finished here." Lex said, pointing to where Chloe had been.

"No, we're not, but I don't have time for this. Let's go." Clark said, storming past him, glad for once for his long legs.

Lex hesitated for one more moment and flashed his light at the cross. "Don't forget the necklace. I saw it hanging there when I came in. It's Lana's isn't it? I've seen it before." He finished, before walking over and pulling the necklace down.

"Yeah," Clark agreed. Hurrying to where Lex had indicated his car was parked.

It took a few minutes to run to where the Porsche (apparently Lex had an unlimited supply of the things) was parked. Clark crammed himself into the seat and grumbled under his breath about stupid short rich people.

Lex, for his part, gunned the engine and pulled quickly away from the plant. "Why leave the necklace?"

"Drive faster and make the call."

"Should I mention that people outside of my father don't usually talk to me like this?"

"Welcome to Smallville," Clark groused.

"I'll say," Lex said, pressing the buttons on his phone. "Still, why leave it? I know Chloe may be someone who leans a bit toward spite, but you're not. Curious. Is there something offensive about the necklace itself and not just the owner?"

"Police, Lex."

Lex nodded and pressed the send button and brought the phone to his ear, but not before eying the necklace one last time as he shoved it into his pocket. "Curious indeed."


	8. Chapter 8

**8**

Clark decided as he and Lex pulled up to the parking lot outside of Smallville High's parking lot that being the sidekick really sucked. Sheriff Ethan, thank God, had actually listened to Lex's warning, which had, of course, been free of Electro Boy details and stuck to the scary enough gist of disgruntled former student and planned massacre. All of the students were now waiting outside on the tarmac. Most of the girls were pissed and talking angrily with each other while the boys mostly looked bored. Idly, Clark noted that the Homecoming court was bedecked in red and gold sashes and that Lana and Whitney both wore the crowns befitting the king and queen.

He didn't feel any jealousy towards Whitney for that, although he was sorely tempted to let Jeremy have his way with the quarterback for just a few minutes.

The car screeched to a halt. Hopping out, Clark ran across the parking lot and towards Pete who, apparently, had been found by someone. "Pete! Have you seen Chloe?"

"Not since she left me locked in the stupid Torch, man. I called for her and everything but she was just gone. It was so weird. I was stuck there until Mrs. Chadwick let me out."

Clark nodded. "Sorry about that."

Pete eyed his motley wardrobe of boxers and too small sweater and winced. "And I'm sorry about the scarecrow."

"It's not important now. Where's Chloe?"

"I don't know. The cops came and cleared us all out for a bomb threat. Can you believe that?"

"It's Jeremy." Clark finished. "He's here."

"Oh man," Pete groaned, "Chloe didn't try getting an exclusive, did she?"

"She might have." Clark said, playing along. "Are you sure no one's seen her?"

"No, but the sprinklers started acting weird. If Jeremy's around here, my bet is that he's been playing with the water pipes. I mean, Electro Boy plus water equals total death, you know?"

Clark nodded and started running to the maintenance shed on the far side behind the gym. "Thanks."

"Clark!" Pete called out. "Don't go back there. Wait for the cops."

"With meteor mutant stuff, get real. I have to drag Chloe out of there. Stay put and don't get any wetter!" Clark called back as he rounded the building and ran out of sight.

When he got to the maintenance building, his heart stopped. There was a white pick-up truck that had plowed through the cinderblock of the building and it was dripping a river onto the ground. Sparks arched through it, making the metal flare bright blue every few seconds, and in the driver's seat passed out was a guy a little older than him.

Jeremy.

"God," Clark said, putting on one last sprint to the crash.

Standing back to avoid the sparks, Clark peered into the remains of the maintenance building. Cinder blocks were everywhere and thick plaster dust blanketed the entire area. He coughed on the debris. "Chloe?"

After a few tense moments, the truck actually started to move backwards, slowly at first and then faster. Clark coughed again as even more dust was released into the air. When he stopped and looked back, there Chloe stood, her hands still clinging to the crumpled hood of the truck. "Damn it! I didn't even get to do any dancing and this thing is ruined."

Clark grinned. Chloe was standing there with her hair drenched, wet tendrils falling in clumps from her up-do, and her dress shredded in several different places. Her corsage was smooshed and strands of crinoline fell from her skirt. And all Clark could think was that she hadn't looked better. Leaping carefully around the still sparking truck, he wrapped her up in a fierce hug. "Chloe!"

She squeezed him back as gently as she ever had. "Nice to see you too, Clark."

He pulled back. "Can you go for three days without being hit by something?"

"I managed nicely for a whole lifetime before Luthor, Jr. showed up. I think he's a jinx."

He hugged her again and kissed her lips. "Jeez, I know I should know better but I saw the lack of building and the electrical display and I thought you were dead."

She shrugged and when she answered the rhythm of her words was a little too fast. "Apparently, I can't be electrocuted either. Joy."

"I'd say that's also a useful skill." He reassured her, his tone gentle. "Come on. Let's go out with the rest of the kids."

She rolled her eyes. "You really suck at this incognito stuff, don't you? I'm covered in dust and my clothes are shredded. People are going to ask questions. It's best if no one knows that I ever came back. Besides, I assume Lex is out there too."

"He is. He didn't see you blur away, but he did see you practically disappear. I think he suspects something."

She rolled her eyes again. "When doesn't he? We'll deal with it later. Maybe it was a mistake to let him see things about me he clearly couldn't explain, but what choice did I have? I couldn't let people die."

"I know." He said, squeezing her shoulder.

Relaxed a little, she grinned up at him. "Before I go, though, I did have a surprise for you."

"Really?"

"Yeah," She said, pulling him toward a far corner of the main senior parking lot. "I think Whitney's going to have problems getting to school on Monday."

Clark looked at Whitney's truck and tried to force a disapproving frown. "Chlo, I don't think you're supposed to use your powers like that."

"Probably not," She said, shrugging, "But it was fun."

He shook his head and laughed at the sight of Whitney's precious truck with its upholstery completely flambéd and its steering wheel melted.

"Yoda would so not approve."

She winked. "I'm a lot more fun than Yoda."

"But sadly not a muppet." Clark said and then added, smirking fully at her as he did it, "You aren't are you? I mean, you don't have hidden fur or a felt-y nose, do you?"

She slapped him on the forearm. "You still need work on your comedy routine."

"I know. Is that one of your powers, too?"

"Snark's my number one ability. Stand-up not so much. You're on your own, buddy, not even I can save you."

"But you'd try."

"Every time."

Chloe left immediately after the conversation and left Clark along with Lex and Pete to fill in the authorities with the much edited version of the night's events. Sheriff Ethan frowned a lot as he took down his notes, apparently dissatisfied with the accounts, and he rightfully should be. What the three of them were able to tell him made no sense. Of course, this being Smallville, the local authorities were skilled at looking the other way when the oddities of the WoW turned violent or became more visible than usual.

The sheriff finished his statements, shook his head, and left the three of them with a polite thank you for their troubles.

Shortly after that, Clark had gotten a ride home from Pete and had spent the rest of the night up in his loft. He'd apologized as soon as he got home to his parents, but it had been late by the time he got back and his dad and mom were trying in vain to get sleep for the farmers' market tomorrow morning. So, even though they were back on good speaking terms, he was back to taking refuge in the loft. Maybe he should have just gone to his bedroom and laid down, but he was too worked up from everything to sleep.

He was leaning over his telescope, aligning it correctly so he could spy Betelgeuse, when a familiar voice distracted him.

"Still Lana-peeping?"

He stood back up and rolled his eyes at Chloe. "No, I'm not."

She ascended the stairs and came to stand before him, rocking back and forth on her heels. "It's okay if you are. I mean, you have to practice your burgeoning stalker instincts somehow."

"Ha-ha and how many times do I have to explain that the one time you looked through the scope and saw her it was a total accident?"

"I'll let you know when you've reached your quota." She said coming to lean against the barn window on the other side of the telescope from him. "So you really are star gazing?"

"You did notice about the dozen astronomy books and magazines in here, right?"

"Yeah, I might have."

"So, I was definitely star gazing. You can see Betelgeuse tonight. It's the brightest star in-"

"Orion's belt. You've told me that before. Just because I didn't look like I was paying attention didn't mean I wasn't it. Besides," she said, tapping the side of her temple. "Photographic memory."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh."

"That's so not fair."

She shrugged. "I can't do math like you can so we'll call it even."

"Yeah, we'll be even if you comp me a few dozen extra superpowers."

"Hyperbole much? I only have the four and technically the photographic thing too but I never thought of that one as an ability."

"Right." He said, putting his hand on the scope's body. "Do you wanna look?"

She shook her head. "I can see them pretty well without it. Besides, I like the panoramic view better. You can't get it in Metropolis because, you know, we have civilization." She quipped as she looked out the loft's window.

He watched her, then, watching the night sky. Watched the somber expression creep over her face as she studied the stars from which she'd come. "How are you doing, really?"

"I'm not processing much. It's totally all at the level of 'fire bad' and 'tree pretty,' you know?"

"I am here on out restricting your _Buffy _intake."

"Not bloody likely," She said, shooting him a ghost of a smile before turning back to the stars. "None of this-the invulnerability, meeting Lex Luthor, seeing my spaceship-feels real. It's only been two days, but it doesn't feel like my life will ever be anything but a García Marquez novel again, you know?"

He nodded and put a hand on her shoulder. "Not exactly, but I do know that I feel like everything since poodle-frog hunting's been a dream."

"A nightmare," She corrected off-handed.

"No, just a dream, just something incredible and unbelievable and utterly Smallvillian." He said, smiling at her.

She nodded but didn't turn back to him. "I wonder which one's mine."

"I was kind of thinking the same thing the entire time I was setting up my telescope."

She shrugged and her voice was subdued when she spoke. "I guess I'll never know where I come from, what I am."  
>Clark swallowed at the enormity of that thought. He couldn't even imagine how scary it would be not to even have a name for what you were, to be almost positive you'd never meet anyone even remotely like you. Shaking off the somber mood, he gave her shoulder a squeeze. "I know what you are."<p>

"Conehead or Czechoslovakian? From Remulac or Antar?"

Clark didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he turned her to face him, grateful that she'd let him do it. He reached down and put his hand under her chin and forced her to look up at him. "You're a Chloe. You're _my_Chloe." Then he kissed her and not like he had a year ago, but with a ferocity and hunger he hadn't even known he'd felt. He held her tightly and let her relax into him for a long, desperate moment.

When they pulled back for air, she was smiling that same wide Chloe smile that had greeted him at The Torch the morning their misadventure had started. "I'm not anybody's, no matter how many sexist, Neandethalish statements you make."

"Sorry," He conceded as he leaned down and kissed her again, letting his fingers tangle in her freshly washed hair. "But you'll forgive me for it."

"It's that stupid Kent charm, totally a better superpower than all of mine put together."

"Speaking of my charm." Clark said as he grinned and walked over to his desk. It took him a while to rummage around behind it before he finally found his prize. Excited and triumphant, he pulled it out of the dusty corner and plugged it into the extension cord snaking its way across the floor. Chloe took one look at it and rolled her eyes. "Oh my God. How old is that thing? It's like totally from the age when Will Smith really was the Fresh Prince."

"It works and that's the important thing." Clark defended.

"It's a boom box the size of a Pinto and about as attractive."

"Complaints, complaints." He griped as he slipped in a tape and turned it on.

Chloe arched an eyebrow at him, "Why do you have Cindi Lauper in your stereo? Is there something about you that you've been holding out on me? It is coming out of the closest season-alien or otherwise."

He blushed. "No. It's one of my mom's old tapes. Now do you wanna have that Homecoming dance or not because I can always go across the way and ask Lana?"

"Oh no, you won't, Casanova." Chloe quipped as she took his outstretched arm and pulled him forcefully against her. Clark knew when he was beat. Happily, he leaned forward and rested his head on top of hers. His arms curled delicately around her sweatshirt covered back.

Closing his eyes, he swayed with her gently to _Time After Time _. It was so easy and effortless between them, as it always had been. Their movements were so fluid that it almost felt like they were floating.

When he opened his eyes, he wasn't surprised in the least to find that they really were.


	9. Chapter 9

**9**

Impetus Verse - Meeting of the Minds (First Epilogue)

She should know better. Correction, she did know better. Chloe'd spent her entire life avoiding attention and moreover avoiding anyone who gave her the _look _. She'd seen that look before, that double take where someone, despite all her caution, had caught her doing something superhuman-_ no, she corrected herself, not superhuman, alien _-out of the corner of their eye and freaked. Thank God she was careful enough and smart enough to convince the few witnesses she'd left in her wake, that what they'd seen hadn't actually happened, that it had been a trick of light, a badly digested potato or whatever.

The last time she'd seen the look, Coach Barett had been casting it her way from across the smoking rubble of the gym.

She'd seen that look from her coach in the days and weeks following the incident, that intense scrutiny and something deeper-fear most likely-whenever she'd been in P.E. Despite her bravado and her skillful tongue, despite the extra effort she'd put into faking athletic incompetence, the look had only intensified and her family had been forced to move.

Sure, it would sound crazy if her teacher had accused her point blank of setting the gym on fire with her eyes, but rumors started and spread and a few whispered words getting back to the wrong sources would have been enough to land her in a lab. It paid to be paranoid when there was a reason They would be out to get you.

So Chloe Sullivan was no stranger to that piercing and accusatory glare, but she'd always gone out of her way to avoid whoever was aiming it toward her. She never sought them out. But here she was on the morning after the Homecoming dance, waiting patiently in Lex Luthor's office and the looks that he'd been giving her since the bridge made Coach Barett's seem like a casual, disinterested glance.

But things had to be taken care of, and she had already figured out that when a Luthor barked orders in Smallville people listened. The fire trucks and ambulances littering through the school parking lot last night had been proof enough of that.

Sighing, she walked over to the refreshment cart and unscrewed a bottle of water that clearly cost more than her father spent on take out pizza on Thursday nights. Chloe deliberately avoided looking in the mirror as she sipped. Eventually, her vaunted host arrived.

"Ah, Chloe. What a pleasant surprise to see you." Lex said, as he approached her, reaching for a ridiculously overpriced bottle of water of his own.

"Really?" She asked, her tone carefully neutral.

"Well, I heard there was a farmers' market this morning. In fact, I went over myself to sample the wares of all the local growers. The Kents certainly have the best produce by far."

"It's an organic thing." She said, shrugging her shoulders. "Which I personally had always thought was a label glued on fruit to make stupid city people pay extra for it at least until I actually tasted the goods myself. Who knew it really was better?"

Lex laughed. It was a rich, seductive sound and Chloe forced herself to take a few steps back. He was nothing if not charming, and she had to remember never to let her distrust waver around him. "Born cynic I see."

"It helps with reporting the news."

"Even if you specialize in mutant toads and boys with the ability to electrocute the entire student body?"

"I never said anything about the latter."

"Clark might have let something slip to Pete after Sheriff Ethan's deposition last night." Lex shook his head and ran a hand over his scalp. "I always knew the meteors could have a lasting effect on someone, I just didn't know the extent of their powers."

"They're just space rocks."

"Sure they are, and my asthma cleared up on its own." He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm sure that Jeremy and, I suppose myself, aren't the only ones who've been enhanced by the exposure."

"Well those alleged toads certainly seemed to develop quite the pituitary problem." She quipped, refusing to give even an inch.

He nodded. "If you insist." Taking a long draught, he added, "I think it's fair to warn you that despite the regrettable and mostly true headlines from The Inquisitor, I am very patient when I want to be. I can play this game for years if I have to."

Asking a question at this point would have been even more incriminating, so she went for the declarative statement instead. "I feel sorry for you then if you believe there's a game being played here. You can't win what never existed in the first place."

"Touché." He finished his drink and sat down at his desk. "So, Chloe, if you're not here to play the mouse to my cat, what does bring you here when I'm sure you and Clark have better things planned?"

Throwing Lex a few table scraps at this point might actually satiate him into civility for the afternoon. Deciding on some disclosure, Chloe replied, "We should. However, Clark cut school on Friday and he's been grounded for the next thirty days. I was able to talk his parents into keeping him on The Torch staff for the month of September, but our dating life's been seriously compromised."

"That's a shame." Lex said and she believed that, at least on this matter, he was completely sincere.

She shrugged. "I waited for him to get a clue for a year. I can wait out four lousy weeks."

"That's very mature of you."

"I'm an old soul."

Oh that damned look again. "I bet you are." He leaned back in his chair. "So why are you here?"

"I need a favor."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "I didn't know we were at the favor asking stage in our relationship."

"Clark mentioned you were looking to make the three of us best buddies. Friends do things for each other."

"There's a quid pro quo in that."

"Latin, huh? Getting use out of that ridiculous Classical education of yours?" She shook her head. "I've never seen anyone double major in Biochemistry and the Classics."

"Impressive, you can Google."

"I can hack records like no one's business. I've found it very useful in getting my articles together, not that I go around publicizing exactly how I know the things I do. I so don't need the FBI in my life."

Lex smirked. "I'll bet. So, quid pro quo then."

"Are you going to call me Clarice from now on and regale me with stories about nice Chiantis?"

"Hardly. I don't drink anything but the best aged scotch."

"Too Plebian?"

"Something like that."  
>"You know," She said, putting her hands on her hips. "You didn't wrangle a deal out of Clark before giving him some very insightful love life advice."<p>

"He mentioned that did he?"

She shook her head. "A little, but even if he hadn't, I saw the two of you talking and gesturing back and forth between me and Lana. Reporter, remember? I have excellent powers of deduction."

"So do I." He replied coolly.

"Is that a threat?"

His expression was guileless when he spoke. "Only if there's something you don't want deduced."

She ignored the bait and continued on with her campaign. "So, anyway, Clark gets the free advice and I get to jump through hoops. How's that fair?"

"Well, he was the one who did the CPR and the dragging me to shore, wasn't he?"

"That's mature. Like I didn't almost drown trying to locate your body."

"I doubt that. Besides, helping Clark directly benefited you. It seems to me that I've already done you a favor."

She shrugged. Though twisted, Lex did have a point. "What do you want then?"

"I want a lot of things," Lex said, stroking his purpled jaw.

She winced. "Clark's really sorry about that."

"I bet he is. The kid couldn't punch to save his life, but he gave it a nice shot. I imagine his right arm is very sore this morning."

"Are you kidding? He was complaining about it last night in the loft."

Lex smirked again. "So I see you're working around that pesky house arrest he's been put under."

"Maybe a little."

"I don't suppose you could offer an explanation for why Clark suddenly hauled off and slugged me, and for how you vanished without a trace in the middle of a corn field."  
>And here again was why it was a bad idea to even be around Lex. As long as she associated with him, she knew there would always be questions bubbling beneath the surface of his mind. That that oppressive need to know would consume him until he consumed her in turn. She almost couldn't fault him for that. Almost. The need to know why had been driving Chloe since her mother'd left her.<p>

"Trick of light, Lex."

"Well, if you're going to lie, I appreciate that you're at least having fun with it. Clark's lies or lack thereof are already growing tiresome. If he's going to be your confederate on whatever it is you two have going, I'd recommend acting lessons for him."

"Care to pony up the dough for that one?"

"That would be a favor, now wouldn't it?"

"Point." She said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Here's a deal then. Clark and I help you fix up the plant books. I could offer the Vegas special because between the two of us and Pete's business sense we could make things disappear really easily. However, I assume you want your first business venture to stay above the board. Corruption seems to be an older man's game."

"No one has anything on the Old Bastard."

"No," she agreed. "He's better than that, although very sloppy with his mistresses."

Lex rocked back just a millimeter, but it was enough to let her know she'd rattled him. "Yes," He answered, his lips pursed tightly. "He's very sloppy with them. Terrible taste too."

Chloe nodded. She couldn't imagine that Nell was any more pleasant than her niece. "Seriously, though, Clark's a whiz with math and I've never found a computer I couldn't coax into doing anything I wanted. You let the three of us help you out and you'll have the books organized in a month. Hell, it could be a Torch special side project."

"I have your father for that."

"It'll take him longer, and the longer it takes to turn a profit here, the longer you'll be stuck at the crap factory. We both know this is the last place you want to be."

He leaned forward and tented his fingers over the top of the desk. Surprisingly, his expression softened as he spoke. "We've both been exiled here, you know. I've only spoken with you four times, but you're a Metropolitan to the bone. It must bore you to be stuck in this cow town."

She shrugged and thought fondly of Clark and Pete. "It has its perks."

"I'm not talking about your newspaper minions or your potentially complicated love life-I did see the glares Pete was giving Clark at the farmers' market by the way."

Of course he had. Lex was nothing if not an inveterate and skilled observer of human and, apparently, alien nature. She sighed and allowed herself to relax a bit for the first time since entering his office. "Pete's had a crush on me since I moved her."

"Just as, I assume, you've had on Clark."

"Throw in Lana and it's this really dysfunctional love quadrangle. We'll work around it."

"I've no doubt about that. It seems you can make anything happen."

And back to the thinly veiled innuendo. "Anyway, you were saying."

"This town can't be easy for someone like you."

Chloe refused to let her body go rigid. If she were going to have to deal with Lex, she'd have to learn how to keep up a poker face (and posture) like a world champion. "How so?"

He ran his head again over his scalp and Chloe wondered if he even realized how often he did that. It was his tell, the way hers was the rapidity of her speech, or Clark's was his…well, everything. She'd seen Lionel in press conferences and had decided that sharks showed more emotions. Lex had a lot to learn before he was truly the mogul he wanted to be. "It's a close-minded place. They're not hospitable to anyone who isn't one of their own, and those of us who are so fundamentally different will never be welcome here."

She paused then, forcing herself not to ask that obvious question of "Why do you think I'm so different?" There was a shredded Porsche that answered that question for her. Lex, apparently, was content to keep up the pretense that this conversation was about their Metropolitan roots.

He gave a wry smile and pointed to his cashmere sweater and her Jackson Pollock style blouse. "We can't even dress in the town uniform."

"If I start wearing only jeans and flannel I give you permission to kill me."

"That goes both ways, I hope." He finished, giving her the first genuine smile she'd ever seen from him. It was a very odd little partnership they were forming between them, of that she was certain. Lex was intelligent. His academic record at Met U proved that much. In fact, considering how he sped through both college and earning his master's degree in just four years while high most of the time, Lex was extremely gifted. But he was more than that. Lex was so in tune with what people were thinking and what they weren't saying. He was also so desperate for the truth and for power.

He was dangerous.

But he was an outsider, too. He had the ability to understand her in a way that even Clark could not. Being adopted in this whitebread little hamlet was an oddity, but no one had taunted him about that since third grade. Clark was a Kent and he belonged to Smallville. He was one of their own. But Lex would never be a part of this town anymore than she would. He was too rich, too educated, too associated with a cursed last name.

Apart from it all, from the Luthor surname and the Excelsior grooming, he was simply too odd.

She knew the feeling. Even before she'd _known _, she'd felt exiled and abandoned in this stupid and bigoted town. She'd never fit in with the sickeningly perfect cheerleading crowds and vapid farmgirls. Chloe supposed that that was as much a fault of her own cynicism and hard-boiled investigator instincts as it was because of her abilities. Now that she did know how different she was on a fundamental, biological level, she knew she'd never assimilate, not even if she magically had a personality transplant and became Lana 2.0.

Aside from the much needed steady employment for her dad and her comfort from Clark, there was nothing binding her to this hateful little place.

Forcing a smile to her lips, she replied, "It's a deal. I'll keep you from committing crimes against fashion no matter what. I wouldn't want you to lose your Metropolitan dignity."

He chuckled. "I appreciate that. So, I was quite serious about that friendship. I don't need the quid pro quo, but I would like a honest and open relationship between us. Somehow, however, I doubt that you'd enter into something so revealing so quickly."

She shook her head. "City girl, Lex. I don't give anything away if I don't have to. Clark's always been far more open than I."

He nodded. "It's more than that. I don't think you give anything away ever. Our dear Mr. Ross seemed so confused last night, and he'd been your date. I suppose I can't hope to have more of the story, even if we've shared that most intimate bonding, which comes from surviving a near death experience."

"I guess not, but I doubt that means you'll stop begging for more."

"Luthors don't beg."

"Sullivans don't tell so we're at an impasse. You go into this 'friendship,'" She said, proud of herself for not making the air quotes with her fingers, "accepting that you'll only get what I give you, and I enter into knowing full well that you'll never stop wanting more. My guess is that eventually, you'll start taking what won't be given to you."

"It doesn't sound like much of a relationship."

"Beggars really can't be choosers."

"I would never expect such an obvious cliché from you, and I said before that Luthors do not beg."

She held her chin up defiantly towards him. "I wasn't talking about you." And she wasn't, not completely at any rate. Chloe only had two friends. The junior high school outcasts-the class nerd who couldn't play any sport well enough to save his soul and the shortest boy in the eighth and, now, ninth grade-had found her that first day of school and made her their own. But she would never be friends with any of the girls, with any of the mainstream and popular crowd (not that she much wanted to now, considering that they included crucifixion as a group activity). Besides, even now she could feel Pete slipping away from her. It wasn't just her secrets. They were a huge part of it. That hurt and confused look she'd seen on his face as she'd watched the three boys give their statements to the sheriff was proof enough of that. But Pete also had an in. He was on the football team now and, judging from the size of his brothers, he wouldn't stay the class shrimp forever.

Even if it was fucked up and dangerous, even if she could never trust him or he her, Chloe wanted to try being friends with Lex.

It might lessen the blow just a little when Pete finally left her behind.

Lex considered her last statement and nodded. He extended his left hand to her and she shook it. "Well, in the spirit of friendship, though regretfully not of true honesty, what favor have you come for?"

She dropped her hand reluctantly from his. "I don't want you to think that I'm coming to you as just a vending machine. I have contacts and sources and I have friends. I do know the difference between using someone and their skills and being a friend."

"I see."

"This is an even venture. You need something from me, though I can't imagine what unless you're really desperate for M.E. records or the latest scoop on six-legged cows, and I'll give it, within reason of course."

"That pesky 'no honesty' clause."

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies. You press and you'll get just what you expect to-a big fat lot of nothing. But I'm serious, otherwise, this is an even partnership."

"Does companionship come as part of this symbiotic alliance?"

She smirked at him. "You know what the town is going to say when a 14 year-old girl starts coming over to your house after hours."

"Not very after hours."

"I put The Torch to bed around 5:30 or 6."

"See, and you know that in Metropolis after hours doesn't even start until 2 A.M., so it's perfectly wholesome," He replied, the smirk on his face mirroring her own.

"The gossip mongers are going to go crazy."

"Your father is going to kill me."

"Oh I don't doubt that." Her smirk widened. "We'll never be allowed in polite Smallville society again."

"There's an 'again?' When were we invited the first time?"

"Precisely my point. Fallen angels the both us; heaven doesn't want us-"

"I think you've misconstrued the meaning of the word 'pastoral.'"

"Fine then, podunk Hell doesn't want us."

"We'll just have to entertain ourselves."

"Exactly."

Lex leaned back and his smile slid from being mischievous to calculating. "It's interesting that you should break out the Milton references, perhaps apropos."

"Digging again. Don't let your desperation show so much on the first day." She said, puffing herself up and answering in a mock deep voice, "Begging is so beneath a Luthor."

He laughed. "That's not a bad impersonation of my father."

"That's a scary kind of compliment but thank you."

"So, buddy, you wanted something?"

"I think this goes in the mutually beneficial category actually."

"Do tell," Lex said, intrigued.

"You saw Clark last night. The football players who strung him up knew exactly what they were doing. It's September and we've been having a cold snap at night. He could have frozen to death, and that was the best case scenario."

Lex nodded. "The asthma."

"Exactly. It's a small town and everyone at school knows how hard a time Clark has breathing sometimes under the best of circumstances. Whitney and Co. knew that they could have killed him. In fact," she added, her tone cold and uncompromising. "Considering how upset Whitney was, I don't know if potential manslaughter wasn't a big bonus in making Clark the scarecrow."

"So, why do you need me? Clark knows who did it to him. We both saw him abandoned out there in that field. Hell, I kept the ropes myself. We can prove what happened." It was a logical argument but delivered without any conviction. He'd clearly reached the same conclusion she had.

"Because Whitney Fordman is a god and because this is Smallville and everyone fucking worships football. Sheriff Ethan and most of the police force played too. They'd never touch him."

"You want the local billionaire's clout behind you?" He asked, still as nonplussed as before.

"No, I don't." She said, leaning over his desk, planting her palms down on either side of his elbows. "You know what I want."

He nodded and grinned back at her. She'd seen lions look friendlier before they tore through injured gazelles on the National Geographic channel. "You want them to hurt."

"A lot."  
>"I'm not a Don. I don't have a consiglieri or even a guy for this."<p>

"I didn't think you did. I like things above the board, mostly. You might not be able to shatter kneecaps on command, but there are a lot of ways to ruin someone."

"Do tell."

"Clark told me everything about last night. Bret Mickelson and Shane Fitzpatrick were the accomplices and both their dads work for the plant."

"Not on Monday morning they don't."

"But the problem with being fired is that they'll just get rehired."

"Not if their personnel files report they were fired for drinking and skipping work."

She smiled and felt her lips pull back to reveal her eye teeth. "That's exactly what I had in mind. Now, Whitney's dad owns Fordman's so he's not exactly someone you can touch, but he just signed a scholarship deal with Metropolis University. Your dad has a chair on the board of trustees, doesn't he?"

"I'm impressed."

She shrugged. "I can Google, can't I?"

"So I've noted. Unfortunately, my father doesn't do me favors."

"But Luthor family money is still Luthor family money. I'm sure something can be arranged and a better quarterback can be found, am I right?"

Lex nodded. "I think that can be arranged as well."

She stood back up and started for the doorway. "Good. I appreciate it."

Lex drummed absentmindedly on the top of his desk, his nails clacking against the glass. "Clark wouldn't approve of this."

"No, he wouldn't. But they hurt him, and that pisses me off. Doesn't it you?"

Lex nodded. "Kid grows on you fast. He's almost like a surrogate brother on demand. Seeing him freezing like that made me angry too."

"I thought so. Besides, I've said it before. Clark's too naïve for his own good. I'm not. He lives in this black and white world, desperately clinging to everything Jonathon Kent ever sermonized about."  
>"And you?"<p>

"I'm willing to deal with the grey. I'm not going to break the law or physically hurt someone. If I was really making it fair, I'd wait until fucking November and have some very large bodyguards of yours string them up in that field until morning." She shrugged. "This seemed like a fair compromise."

"If it truly were fair, you'd have no problems letting Clark in on it."

"I suppose that's true, but, like I told him, a girl's allowed to have a few secrets."

Lex stood up and walked over to the corner of his office nearest the pool table. "And a girl like you has more than most."

Chloe didn't miss a beat. "Country girls aren't complicated, Lex. I'm a whole different animal."

"I'll bet." He said, pulling out a heavy and ornately decorated metal box and holding it out to her. "Oh, I almost forgot. You'll see Lana at gym class on Monday won't you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately the Pink Peep actually has a brain in her head. We share most of the honors track classes together. What do you need?"

Lex closed the distance between them and opened up the box. Chloe immediately felt the familiar stomach cramps and nausea that indicated she was near meteor rocks. She took a few deep breaths as subtley as she could and willed herself not to pass out. It was a struggle, but three days out of the month she managed not to give too much about something else away either. "Her necklace."

"Yes, you both were going to leave it out in the field. Curious, considering it's clearly not that heavy." He frowned and Chloe had known him long enough now to know the concern was at least partially feigned. "Are you feeling okay, Chloe? You look awfully pale."

It took everything she had to answer without letting her voice quiver. "I'm fine. Now just put it in the box and I'll make sure I get it back to her."

Despite the way his eyes were narrowed at her, Lex nodded and did as she asked. "That's good to know. It would be a shame if she lost something so rare."

"Yeah." She conceded, relieved that the pain had subsided. Cautiously, she asked, "That's a very interesting box; where did you get it?"

"It was made out of the lead armor of St. George the Dragon Slayer or so my father always told me." He said handing over the box.  
>"Lead you say?"<p>

"I did." Lex said, glancing down at his watch. "Chloe, please excuse me. As much as I've enjoyed this chat, I've got an engagement in Metropolis that I have to prepare for."

She nodded and started through the door. She was almost across the threshold, when he called out to her. "Chloe, one more thing."

"What?"

"Did Clark tell you about our conversation after you left the mansion?"

"We've been on rocky speaking terms this week and he's not that talkative after almost suffocating to death and, um, other things." She finished lamely, cursing her cheeks for blushing so brightly.

"I'll bet." Lex said. "Anyway, I told him that this friendship between the three of us, especially between you and me, will be the stuff of legends. Can you feel it?" He asked, his eyes glittering with hunger and something dangerous yet undefinable.

Chloe shivered. Yes, she felt it. For the first time since she came up with her plan for retribution against Whitney and his stooges, she began to regret it. In her mind's eye, she imagined what she and Lex could do together. Her skills as an investigator and talent with a computer, his wealth and connections, their intelligence-they'd be unstoppable. And that was before one added in her seemingly limitless supply of superpowers.

Yes, together they could be the stuff of legends. Now whether the legend played out like the heydays of Camelot or like one of those blood soaked tales of Aztec lore she'd read in Spanish class had yet to be seen.

And for the first time since she arrived at the mansion, her resolve faltered. "I…I can feel it." She said, avoiding his eyes as she replied and hurrying quickly (for human speeds) out of the study and down the hall.

When she exited out onto the driveway, she stopped and gulped in large breaths, her hands shaking at her sides. Chloe hesitated on the stone steps in front of her, feeling an odd sense of vertigo flood her. It had been so easy to destroy something-no, not something, a whole _life _-with Lex's help.

What more could they do?

Finally she shook herself out of her reverie and made her way down the steps and to the cobblestones of the driveway, and although she was once again on level ground, she could not shake the feeling that she was plummeting from the edge of a precipice from which even she could not return.


	10. Chapter 10

**10**

Impetus Verse-IHOW (Second Epilogue)

Gabe Sullivan had always joked with his daughter that the reason that there was an International House of Pancakes, even though waffles were clearly the superior food, was because IHOW just didn't have the same ring to it. True to form, his daughter had groaned and swatted him on the arm with the dish towel she'd been using.

While he loved his special little girl fiercely, she had one major flaw: the girl just didn't appreciate a good joke.

Waffles were a special language all their own in the Sullivan household. His mother had always made them. They weren't, of course, an Irish specialty, but they were something she'd perfected long ago in her girlhood. Instead of cake, Gabe and his six siblings had had unlimited waffles with extra whipped cream for their birthdays. When he did poorly on a test at school or when a girl dumped him, Annie Sullivan made him waffles. When he got married, he hadn't been surprised in the least to find his mother asking the caterer how many waffles he thought she'd need to prepare for the guests.

Moira'd laughed then, thinking her mother-in-law was joking.

She hadn't been laughing quite so hard when his mother showed up at the reception hall two miles from St. Patrick's with five hundred waffles in Tupperware containers.

Tradition was tradition, and so Gabe had adopted the sacred power of waffles as his own. Unfortunately, he could not cook nearly as well as his mother could. He was prone, even now and after decades of practice, to burning them. But still he carried on the tradition.

The day after Chloe'd first exhibited her phenomenal strength, he'd made Moira a fresh batch of raspberry waffles and used that very early morning breakfast (even at three Chloe had not been a morning person) to convince her that after the previous day's disaster that they could never turn their child over to Sam.

He'd made funny shaped waffles with extra strawberries and whipped cream for Chloe the morning that Moira'd left them both. His little girl hadn't touched them, far too distraught by her mother abandoning her to do anything other than cry on his lap. When Chloe'd been eleven and begged to join the cheerleading squad, insisting that there wasn't a flip she couldn't do, he'd told her no. Refused her that because she posed too big a danger for the normal girls. She'd cried for the whole weekend and had only been coaxed out of her room for the rarest of waffle treats-the kind with Toll House morsels mixed into the batter and with powdered sugar on top. Over that tooth-rotting meal, she'd come to reluctantly accept the fact that there were certain things she'd never be able to do.

Waffles were a good thing, a special treat, but they were an omen too.  
>Gabe remembered the surprise he'd felt when he'd woken up to find Chloe slaving over a batch of blueberry waffles one Thursday morning a little over a year ago. He'd been shocked beyond belief because, unfortunately, Chloe was an even worse cook than he was. Gabe, though he might burn things, actually could follow a recipe.<p>

Chloe, despite her college-aged reading level and the large labels on the jars, had a tendency to confuse the sugar and the salt. And that was the most benign of her culinary indiscretions. How she'd managed to work Tabasco sauce into a simple ice cream sundae with supposedly strawberry syrup topping, Gabe would never know.

Of course, maybe her people weren't big on cooking either. For all he knew they'd evolved to Jetsons' level of high tech meals, where everything came in pellet form.

Yum.

Still, the morning he'd found Chloe actually attempting to cook waffles was the morning she'd confessed about her newest power. It had been a double blow. It wasn't just that he was upset about moving. Even then, he hadn't been upset for himself. He'd actually grown up outside of Gotham and hadn't been that attached to Metropolis since Moira'd left. He had, however, been sad for Chloe, who loved the city, especially _The Daily Planet _, more than anything. She was a Metropolitan girl through and through, and it had crushed her to realize that they were going to have to leave.

The far worse blow that day, however, was realizing that Chloe's abilities were just beginning to crop up. Gabe had always assumed that being a whatever she was-in addition to being the most perfect and precocious little girl in the universe-meant that she was going to be stronger than humans. He assumed she was only extraordinarily fast because her leg muscles were so strong. In that way, her gifts made sense. Each year, she got a little bit stronger and a little bit faster and that was it.

Except it wasn't. After the heat vision developed, Gabe had steeled himself for possibility that even more fantastic powers would emerge, things that weren't even remotely like other people could do. After all, humans couldn't do anything even close to shooting heat blasts with their eyes, and it had started when she'd hit puberty. He was very much afraid that as she matured more abilities were going to pop up.

Personally, he didn't care. She could have 42 different powers, and she'd still be Chloe, but it did make him worry for her. The more different she was, the more she had to hide, and, he feared, the more she'd resent herself. Gabe wasn't stupid. He knew that no matter how hard he tried to convince her otherwise and despite how fiercely he tried to show his love for her, Chloe would always blame and hate herself for scaring her mother away.

If only she'd known how much more complicated it was than that. If only he hadn't promised Moira to go along with her cover story to protect Chloe.  
>But he'd given his word, and Gabe Sullivan was nothing if not loyal. Besides, he knew what had come to pass, as painful as it had been, was the best thing for Chloe.<p>

Still, he was afraid for Chloe. Afraid more powers would emerge to add to her self-loathing. Afraid that one day, his little girl wouldn't even look human.

He'd never dared to share that worry with her, but it had been in the back of his mind since the first time he'd ever seen her eyes flare red. He'd love her no matter what, but he couldn't bear the thought of her having to hide even more from the rest of society. Despite her heritage, he'd never met anyone who loved people and loved knowing _everything _about them than she.

But those were all worries for another day and another plate of waffles. That Thursday morning he'd sat there and made stupid knock-knock jokes, eaten truly terrible waffles (she'd mixed up the salt and sugar again), and promised her that no matter where they ended up they'd still be a family.

And that was the last time there'd been waffles at the Sullivan house.

Until this morning.

Hesitantly, Gabe eased himself down into the wooden chair at the kitchen table. "Honey, it smells great."

Chloe turned away from the stove and carried a large platter, brimming full of waffles to the table. Before he'd had the chance to object that there were far too many waffles there for both of them, even taking into account her huge appetite, she disappeared and reappeared back at the table with a ginormous bowl of homemade whipped topping and fresh picked blueberries.

Gabe's heart skipped a beat. She was going all out, putting in much more effort than she had for the heat vision. They were probably going to have to relocate to Bolivia or something this time. Or maybe he was over reacting. Perhaps something less drastic than exposure had happened like her growing a tail. A tail they could deal with. She'd just have to wear really roomy skirts from now on or something.

Chloe smiled back and settled herself across from him at the table, preparing a plate for herself or possibly for a linebacker. With her it was hard to tell. "Thanks, daddy. Now eat up. I didn't slave over a hot stove for nothing."

He frowned as he spooned out the cream and berries onto his modest portion. "You didn't just heat vision the batter?"

"I can do toast. Other stuff tends to turn to charcoal still." She shrugged. "It's a work in progress."

"I see." He said, taking a bite. After tasting the breakfast, Gabe really was scared. The waffles were actually good. No, they were better than good. They were excellent and way too edible to have been made by his daughter. "Chlo-bear?"

"Please don't call me that," She said, picking her fork up from her plate. Despite her heaping helping, Gabe noted that she hadn't actually eaten anything. Oh god, she was as nervous as he was.

"Sorry, Chloe," He conceded. "Sweetheart, what's going on?"

She dropped her fork and started pulling at her paper napkin. "What? I can't just make waffles for my favorite person?"

"Nice try. You know that no one makes waffles around here except for special occasions."

She swallowed and looked back down at her pile of napkin shreddings. "I have a lot to tell you."

He kept his voice level and as reassuring as possible when he spoke, "It's about Lex, isn't it?"

Her head shot up inhumanly fast and when she faced him, her expression was a guilty one. "Not exactly. I know he's suspicious of me, but he hasn't tried anything. Has he said anything more to you at work?"

Gabe shook his head. "No, but that doesn't mean anything. Lex is more subtle than that. He could be planning something still."

"He's always planning something."

"But this isn't some designer drug he's sneaking around and brewing in Met U's basement. This is you, sweetheart. His family is one of the most powerful in the world, and if he finds out about you, he could take you away and do God knows what."

"He's not going to find out anything." She snapped.

"We don't know that. Maybe it's time for me to quit. I can always get a job at Wayne Industries. Your Uncle Martin works in personnel for one of the bigger plants in Gotham and-"

Chloe slammed her palms down on the table and Gabe winced, anticipating the shattering of the wood. He was relieved when it didn't come. She was getting so much better at controlling her strength. "We're not moving!"

"Don't raise your voice at me, missy. If it means keeping you safe, we'll move all the way to Timbuktu."

She shook her head and let her hands slip off the table. "I'm not running."

"And I'm not letting you get hurt."

"I'm not hurt."

"Yet."

"No, I'm not hurt at all, and I don't want to pick up and leave again. I have a life here."

"Sweetie, I know how fond you are of Pete and Clark, and I know they care about you, but they don't know you like I do. If they knew how much danger you're in, then they'd tell you to run too."

"Just because Pete doesn't know my secret, doesn't mean that he doesn't know me."

"I didn't mean to dismiss your friendships and wait…" Gabe paused, replaying what she hadn't said in that sentence. He might be the manager of a crap factory (yes, he'd heard Lex use that colorful moniker when arguing with his father over the phone) but Chloe had learned her observant nature from somewhere. "What about Clark?"

Chloe didn't speak but instead stood up slowly and walked over to the padlocked door to the basement. Reaching up, she took the lock in her hand and snapped it without any effort. "I've been humoring you. I've been able to snap the lock since I was three."

"But you couldn't reach the top of the door until you were twelve." He said. "I appreciate that you respected the locked basement of secrecy."

"I thought that it was where you stashed Playboys. I was so never going down there. That would lead to therapy bills even LuthorCorp medical insurance couldn't cover."

"Not that I read that, but if I did, it's for the articles."

"Uh-huh." She said, opening the door.

"You really don't have to drag me down there, I think I remember what I've been locking up for the last twelve years."

"I'm not going to see what's down there. I'm letting something out." She finished, letting the door hang wide and calling back down the stairs, "You can come out now."  
>Right then Gabe felt his left arm go numb and was convinced he was having a heart attack. Taking in ragged breaths, he asked, "Are you crazy?"<p>

Before Chloe could answer, Clark stepped out from the shadows of the basement and made his way into the middle of the kitchen. "No, she's not."

Gabe swallowed. "I think I should tell you now, Clark, that I have this bad model building habit. I've been making little spaceships ever since I saw _Lilo and Stitch _."

Chloe arched an eyebrow at her dad. "Nice."

Clark wasn't appeased in this least. Calmly, he objected, "Mr. Sullivan, I know."

This could not be happening. They'd had to move when someone even suspected that Chloe was different. Now Lex was sniffing after her and Clark knew everything. He had no idea how to get Clark to forget what he'd seen, and, oh God, what if he told someone? Clark was (although reluctantly) on the school paper. What if he'd called _The Inquisitor _?

Gabe took a deep breath. He would deal with this. "What do you want? I don't have much money."

Clark gaped at him and Chloe barked out a laugh. "Daddy, you can't be serious."

The boy finally got back his ability to speak. "Mr. Sullivan, I don't want anything."

"I try to be as optimistic as possible. It balances out Chloe's cynicism, but everybody wants something. I mean, you now have proof of the biggest news story ever. I find it hard to believe you aren't going to just run to the _Planet _or something."

Clark looked like he'd slugged him. Shaking his head, he stammered out, "I don't want anything like that ever. I'd never betray her like that."

"He wouldn't. Lex has been asking him all kinds of questions since the accident and he's been lying for me." Chloe confirmed as she shut the door and ushered Clark over to the table.

Gabe watched the kid warily as he took his seat. "If Chloe and you just jumped into the water after the fact, I don't understand how you could know everything."

Avoiding his eyes, Chloe looked back at her pile of napkins as she answered, "We didn't jump in. Lex hit me with his car and pushed me through the barrier."

He was up in an instant, rushing over toward here, and running his hands over her back and arms. "Does anything hurt? Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I was a little bruised the first day, but even those faded in about 24 hours."

He rocked back on his heels and looked up at her. Her chin was held up in that defiant way she had. He recognized the gesture from every argument they'd ever had. However, she was worrying her lower lip with her teeth just as she had when she'd told him about the heat vision.

He knew that look too.

It was the one she'd given him so many times without even realizing it since the day Moira left. That hesitant, self-conscious glance she gave him sometimes when he caught her using her powers for silly every day things like speed cleaning her room or lifting up the couch to vacuum underneath it. It was that look that always asked him if today was the today he was going to abandon her too.

Without a second thought for Clark or the rest of this mess they were in, he gathered Chloe up in his arms and hugged her. "It's alright Chlo-bear. I'm just glad you're alright. If you hadn't been invulnerable you wouldn't even be here and I don't think I can survive without you."

When he pulled back, she was sniffling a little and rubbing at her eyes. "Thanks, daddy." Then, grimacing, she added, "I told you not to call me that. It is so lame."

"But it's cute too and it worked so well when you were little and wouldn't shut up about the Care Bears."

"I should not be punished for having poor taste as a five year old."

Clark chuckled beside her. "You know, if you guys are going to argue about nicknames I can always come back later to talk about the alien stuff."

Hearing that word out loud was like having ice water poured down his pants. It switched him back into damage control mode. The funny thing was he'd never used the word out loud before, not even during his most heated arguments with Moira and not on that day-God had it only been this Thursday?-when he'd shown Chloe how she'd come into this world. Gabe hated the term, especially when it was applied to his little girl. It was its connotation, the implication that she was other and different and didn't belong.

It was an ugly term.

Standing up and taking advantage of what little height he had to lord over the sitting Clark, Gabe crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at the boy. It was a posture he'd seen Chloe mimic dozens of times as a toddler and keep as her own into adulthood. "Excuse me? What did you say?"

Straightening his glasses, Clark stammered, "I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult anybody or to make you mad."

"Oh, I'm very mad but mostly at Chloe who clearly showed you her ship without my permission." He said, glaring at his daughter. "But I don't care for the term _alien _much either. How about a nice _Intergalactic Traveler _, instead."

"P.C. Nazi," Chloe quipped. "Besides, it's a mouthful."

"How about _visitor _," he suggested, grinning at his daughter.

Chloe grimaced. "I do not go around planting satellites in the asses of Colorado third graders."

Gabe laughed and Clark continued to look very confused. Apparently the poor kid was really lacking on his Comedy Central education Taking a little pity on the interloper, he clarified, "It's a South Park joke, Clark."

"Oh. We don't have cable and my parents don't let me watch that kind of stuff anyway."

"It's not a big deal." Chloe said. "But I am so not using that term. How about Czechoslovakian?" When both Gabe and Clark stared blankly at her, she groused. "Oh, sure, like I'm the only one who watches the WB."

Gabe rolled his eyes and tried to steer the conversation back on track. "Semantics aside, Clark, I'm not exactly thrilled that you know everything."

"I'm not going to tell anyone." He defended, adjusting the glasses on his nose again. "I…I want to keep her safe, too, and I _have _been covering for her since this whole thing started. I care about her and I don't want to see Lex or anyone else hurt her." He stood up then, crossing his arms over his chest as well. "And I don't think she should have to move if she doesn't want to."

Gabe leaned in toward him. "I don't think that's your decision to make."

Suddenly, Chloe was there between them, pushing them apart. "And as cute as alpha male posturing isn't, I'm not a pet dog. In fact, I'm quite capable of making decisions for myself."

"And I'm your father." Gabe pointed out calmly.

"And my life's here in Smallville as weird as that is to admit. If you move me all the way to Gotham, I'd still come back here and you can't stop me and you know that."

"I get it, Chloe. I understand that you have your first real case of puppy love and I know how much you also wanna stick around for Pete and the paper, but you'd get over it."

"This," Chloe said, glaring up at him, her eyes taking on just the barest hint of russet. "Is not just puppy love, and I don't want to uproot my life every time someone looks at me funny. If I let you move me now, if I fall into that habit, I'll be doing it for the rest of my life."

"But-"

"No. I'm staying here and if you move me I'll just run back here and it's going to be a Hell of a lot more suspicious if a girl who lives in Gotham is always spotted in Smallville."

Gabe looked back up at Clark and to Chloe. "I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it, but I'm getting older now and I have a right to make more of my own choices. For the first time in my life I can actually make fully informed decisions because I know exactly what's at stake." She paused then and took Clark's left hand in her own. "Maybe things will get worse and I'll agree to leave-you know I can be gone in a blink if I have to-but this is my home and I want to stay."

Despite her bluster and her threats, Gabe knew she'd follow him wherever he went. She might like Clark, but he was family, and his little girl craved that more than anything. Reaching over, he stroked her choppy hair. She looked back up at him with her wide, soulful eyes, and it was he back in the middle of that Smallville highway again. He'd fallen in love with her on sight, with eyes that were so earnest that he'd had a hard time believing she was anything but human. Eyes that trusted him.

His choice.

Stay and let her have a life, a real shot at a relationship outside of the one she shared with him, to let her be as close to normal as possible. But he'd also be leaving her to face Lex's potential wrath.

Or they could run again and Gabe knew right then that she was right. If they ran now, they'd never stop. She'd never even have a pretense of normality again. She'd be a perpetual refugee, ready to run at a moment's notice. He couldn't do that to her. Once upon a time, in a cramped car outside a military base, he'd promised his daughter that he'd do anything to give her a regular life.

He'd sworn it.  
>Nodding, he took Chloe's other hand and squeezed it as tightly as he could. "Alright then. We'll stay, but I'm not promising anything. If it gets too dangerous, we are going to have this conversation again…with Clark, of course."<p>

Both his daughter and Clark did a double take at that.

"With me? Are you serious?" Clark asked.

"You know everything there is to know," Gabe said, reluctantly releasing his daughter's hand and taking his seat back at the table. Taking a big forkful of waffle (he was starving by now, the stress always did that to him), he added, "That makes you as good as family in my book."

Chloe followed her father's lead and went back to her meal, this time actually eating it instead of playing with it. "Don't get too excited. Being part of the Sullivan family means you have to watch that stupid Riverdance video every year, but it's too late to back away from the horror now, Clark."

"Well, gee, I think I might want to pass on that part." Clark said, his tone completely honest. The kid couldn't do sarcasm if his life depended on it.

Gabe smiled to himself and shook his head. Forget the fact that Chloe was from another planet. She and Clark were already different species-the hard-bitten, sardonic city girl and the naïve farmboy. God, his little girl was going to eat him alive. Apparently, history had a way of repeating itself. He'd heard that Martha was not only a Metropolitan born and bred but the daughter of one of the most powerful attorneys in the city. Come to think of it, Moira'd been a handful too. That ferocious newshound (for the _Journal _not the _Planet _) had had a certain amateur comic at her beck and call from the moment she'd met him.

His smile broadened. The kid had no idea what he was getting himself into.

"Welcome to the Sullivan side of the fence," He agreed taking another bite of waffle. "This is excellent by the way, Clark. Tell your mother she did a fantastic job teaching you everything she knows."

"Thanks. I will."

Chloe's expression soured. "I could have made it."

"No, you really couldn't have." Gabe and Clark chorused.

"Chlo, you might be able to literally walk on air, but cooking is definitely not one of your superpowers."

"Yeah, Chlo-bear, and wait…did he just imply that you can float now?"  
>Chloe blushed. "Maybe a little. I should have made this a larger breakfast because I think I've just disclosed a million things."<p>

"A little?" Gabe queried, intrigued.

"Well, I've only done it the one time, and it's not like I can fly or anything."

"Can I see?"

Clark took a bite of his own confection. "She can't repeat it yet voluntarily. We're working on it."

"Oh," he replied a little disappointed. Then, brightening he added, "Can I watch you fly when you get the hang of it?"

"I still don't think I can actually fly, but if I ever learn there will be no Peter Pan jokes. That would so get old quickly." She smirked at him. "Actually, those would be just like your other jokes then."

"Ouch, hit me where I live, why don't you? Besides, it's really no problem, sweetie." He agreed, singing the line "Here I come to save the day" under his breath. Clark, apparently a classic cartoon fan, got the allusion and laughed. Gabe felt his smile widen.

Finally, a family member who appreciated his sense of humor.


End file.
